Tarkin's Fist Episode II Dirtside
by AshlaTi
Summary: The invasion begins. The Empire launches its massive attack on a backwater world. The harsh tale of OC characters set against the backdrop of the Empire-Earth War. Please R&R, 1 free Force Power for every new follower.
1. Act 1 Happiness is a Warm Gun

_Yes, I know I don't own Star Wars, George Lucas does, I just like to play in the wonderful galaxy he created. If you haven't read part 1 of this series I highly recommend it, as you might be confused as to why there's a hostile Imperial Fleet in orbit around Earth in the first place. Other than that. I hope you enjoy the tale and hope to hear your reviews and e-mails._

Earth, Sol System, Suspected Unknown Regions

The primitive native species of the backrocket world once looked upon the stars with wonder. There used to exist a golden age where the universe was filled with possibilities. Their leaders and wise men had once told them tales of how their world's peoples would one day join hands with each other and set sail across the stars. The races of the world had always known they would be welcomed by the civilizations they encountered with open arms and as equals in the spirit of cooperation. They had been lied to.

It started over two years ago with a disturbance in the outer solar system. Governments had clamped down on information being distributed by space exploration organizations, while across the globe amateur astronomers reported of strange sights around the largest of planets, Jupiter. The nations of Earth tried to reach out to the strange visitors, but their own technology fell far short of completing the task. As satellite signals wavered under the onslaught of foreign interference, TV-dishes received powerfully overwhelming alien signals that disrupted and sometimes actually blew out older televisions

The aliens moved slowly on the Earth and as they approached the fourth planet in the system, Earth's own science and technology started to be attacked and overpowered by the more advanced systems of the superior civilization. People on the street lost reception on their simple communication devices, while the satellites that kept them informed failed one after another. For the first time, blasted by signals spanning the entire EM spectrum and beyond. The more advanced HoloNet communications was so focused, that Earth was swamped by the powerful signals even though they weren't integrated into the network. Even, radio and laser-based communications systems wavered, and for the first time in the history of the modern world, Earth was exposed to it all.

Their own governments turned on them next, and the people's rights were assaulted. Freedom of the press was the first to go, followed quickly by the freedom of speech. The governments of the world controlled the information, but it was the rumors that were believed. There were stories of the capture of their sister planet Mars, and tales of war being fought on the surface of their moon. Life quickly changed for the people of Earth as antique phone systems were installed in every house, and nations enacted draft conscription programs that pulled the youth of the planet from their homes. Telescopes became illegal contraband and gun ownership became mandatory in some nations. Public transportation became commonplace as governments moved for more and more control of the world's raw resources for military use.

Stories spread of contact being made with alien leaders that broke down in absurd demands. While alien robots prowled the countryside, anti-alien propaganda filled almost every entertainment venue. Military forces tested new weapons and fielded more troops than at any other time in human history. At a time when the civilian population wondered what was being hidden from them, strange alien fighters sliced through the air defenses of the Earth and destroyed the world's most advanced weaponry, their nuclear arsenals.

Emotions of isolation and vulnerability swept the world, and the only hope had been an out-stretched hand. The aliens had sent their representative whose image was quickly splashed across the world. Elation that the aliens were human like them filled the xenophobic globe, but her demands had been too severe, and the greatest of the world's leaders had turned on her.

Now every soldier and civilian stared towards those stars again. The hope and wonder they had once felt was gone, and fear and panic took their place. Monstrous diamond shaped craft moved menacingly into position over the Earth's largest cities and powerful military bases. As all hope seemed lost, a new feeling started to grow, resolve. The people of Earth may never again reach the stars, but one thing was absolute. Earth was their planet.

**Flag Bridge, Imperial II-class SD **_**Quill,**_ **300 Kilometers over the Northern Atlantic Ocean**

"So it has come to this." Fleet Admiral Aveo Yos whispered to himself. The eastern seaboard of the lesser continental mass was quickly coming into view ahead of the _Tarkin's Fist's_ flagship, the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer _Quill_. It was a beautiful visage, as the Earth's only sun slowly set behind a small mountain range in the distance and lights from the North American Union started greeting the night.

His recon pilots had told him it would have been an even more impressive sight a few months ago, before his forces had launched an ion attack against the Earth's power sources in an attempt to force capitulation from the backwater planet. It had been a useless gesture. The pathetic Terran race had only responded by a show of force that had denied them their one means of striking a deal with his fleet. And what a response the Earthlings had prepared.

The back-stabbing near-humans of Earth had lured in his only child Phasma into their nefarious clutches. They had yet to make their demands for her release known, but he wasn't allowing them to make any more moves against his Empire. A fleet of over fifty star destroyers of every class fielded since the Clone Wars encircled the planet and awaited his next command. He didn't know where they had taken Phasma, and simply refused to believe that she had been harmed in any way.

The city that Fleet Intelligence had determined to be the capital of the North American Union loomed under the turbolasers of the _Quill_. He had selected this target as his own, as a small act of revenge. The North American Union had stolen his heart, so he would pay them in kind by tearing out their own.

He stood by his old friend Captain Nake aside the flag bridge's map reader which projected the feed from the warship's long range reconnaissance HoloCams. They mostly watched the panic below that was caused by their appearance in the skies above the Earthling's capital. Long slow lines of landspeeders moved in procession along wide roads leading into the countryside, as if they were womp rats fleeing a sinking ship. Nake quietly commented that several airspeeders were racing away from the airspeeder base at the edge of the city.

"Order turret seven to lock onto that target." Yos ordered. "I think enough burra fish have escaped from our nets." Nake turned and ordered a nearby lieutenant to see to it. Nake pushed a lever on the console of the map reader and the HoloVid switched to an image of the fleet's positions around the blue and green world. The last of his attack vessels were taking up their positions for the opening attack. Yos watched as a squadron of TIE/in starfighters somewhere in orbit over the Russian Federation lazily escorted one of the newer TIE/WACs on its mission to continue scrambling the electronic signals of the Earth's defense forces.

The strange-looking giant TIE craft was just one of a new generation of weapons that were under development by the engineers and scientist of the fleet under the watchful eye of Moff Kuat. The irony of some of the weapons was that several of them were based on ideas they had learned from the Earthlings themselves. It seemed fitting that the Empire would use those same weapons on the Earth's near-humans. He smiled slightly when he thought of the thermobolic proton bombs that had been dropped on the deep bunkers and silos that had housed the nuclear devices and the hopes of those that were allied against him. A late night discovery by an Intelligence technician 'surfing' the Earth's internet, and the forces under Yos's command suddenly had a more powerful deep penetration bomb than anything in the arsenal of the Galactic Empire. Another gift he would someday deliver to Grand Moff Tarkin when they received the call to return.

Before his daughter's kidnapping the issue that weighed most upon his soul, was his allegiance and dedication to the Grand Moff. In reality his own Imperials were members of the Empire in name only. The crews of his fleet had been gleaned from Imperial Personnel due to a thousand different reasons, the most common one was that their loyalty leaned a little ways away from the Emperor. Officers who were more concerned with the lives of their troops over the completion of a mission, stormtroopers who had refused to open fire on civilians, Clonetroopers who had watched their brothers slaughtered by the thousands, or TIE pilots that had accepted the surrender of pirate gangs when their superiors had ordered them to wipe them out. These were just a few of the reasons his star destroyer crews served him and not Palpatine.

The fear of the Imperial Security Bureau had led thousands into his service as well. The ISB had been a stain on the honor of the Imperial Military for years now. Years ago, when he had first commanded the Subterrel Sector Fleet, the white suited agents of the ISB had prowled his own warships and on several occasions executed officers and crew that they had deemed disloyal to the Empire. Yos remembered the frustration he felt in the lack of a trial or justice for those males and females. He recalled near-human and clone comrades that had been harassed and drummed out of the service, as he had heard scuttlebutt of massacres of alien populations across the Mid and Outer Rim. Colleagues who had spoken out had simply disappeared. Nake's own sister had been a high-ranking Commander in Imperial Procurement and had been dismissed for simply being a female.

Yos remembered the feelings of uselessness and fear that swept the officer corps of the Imperial Navy, particularly his own feelings of impotence. He had a young daughter to protect, and if ISB ever found out her origin he felt he would doom her as well. When Tarkin had called for him to report to the Horuz System's _Death Star_ construction site the Grand Moff had offered him a chance to escape all of that. He had readily jumped at the chance. Tarkin had ordered him to set in motion the creation of a new Tarkin Utopian Society based on scientific achievement inside of his pet maw cluster. Millions of disgruntled Imperial soldiers and crew had been sent with him along with a massive slave army to build that society from the ground up. All in the desire to build the most powerful warships, weapons, and technological advancements ever constructed, to someday answer a call from Tarkin to perhaps be unleashed on the Galactic Empire itself one day.

Then came the 'Big Jump' and the disaster that almost was. The loss of fuel, power, and blaster gas had left the fleet crippled for over a galactic standard year. Even worse had been the presence of a populated planet within the system they had found themselves in. While the fleet was at its most vulnerable a culture clash between the two civilization's technology had prevented communication between the two. The initial contact with the fleet had even led the Earthlings to assume they were already under attack.

Yos realized mistakes had been made on his part. Following standard Imperial protocols and operating procedures, his _Tarkin's Fist _had made moves to protect itself by lashing out and capturing Earth's forward bases on their sister planet of Mars, as well as their local moon. He had ordered the destruction of Earth's satellite networks, power plants, and nuclear stockpiles all in a measure to protect his command.

With the help of Moff Culter he had championed the terraforming of Mars, where after half a year enough breathable air had been created for construction of Culter City. She was a metropolis like no other in the known home galaxy. His capital city consisted of towering skyscrapers and hundreds of factories and research facilities. His slave army was soon granted their freedom and formed the civilian foundation of his society. Droid production helped with menial labor, but if his new society was to expand he needed a labor force that was cheap and utterly controlled by his government. These new slaves could only be found in one place, and no one objected when the blasters of the fleet were slowly being turned towards Earth.

Well, maybe the aboriginal Earthlings did, he told himself. The only thing he cared about the Earth scum at this moment was that some of them knew where his beloved daughter was being held. Once again he stared at the map reader HoloVid and silently hoped that one of his powerful warships wasn't currently in orbit above her prison. Across the flag bridge one of his Directors of the Bureau of Operations was busy dealing with several of his own aides. Captain Yutu had been assigned to him by Grand Moff Tarkin himself, and until recently had performed superbly. His discovery of the Earth's internet had allowed _Tarkin's Fist_ to know the capabilities and dispositions of almost all of the third planet's defensive military forces.

It was the officer's promise to safeguard Phasma, that had brought the Intelligence Director squarely into his cross-hairs. If Yutu wasn't fully involved in the search for his daughter, Yos would have already relieved him of his post. Yos looked at an icon on the HoloVid to make sure that the Bureau's storm commando teams were still standing by, at the ready. Several of their transports had already left their starships and were heading for the upper atmosphere of Earth. They would go in under the cover of the opening bombardment.

He spent the next few moments pondering Phasma's fate. The Earth would be punished for their audacity. Already accommodations that resembled life on Kessel waited for the hapless Terrans back on the red planet. Thousands of empty factories, mines, and agricultural collectives waited for the slaves his invasion would bring. If they harmed his daughter he would order a Base Delta Zero operation and leave their world a wasteland and the last Terran would suffer a lonely death somewhere in a deep ore mine well below the Martian surface.

He thought of Phasma's unique history. True, nobody knew she wasn't his biological offspring, but was instead the clone of a Naboo Ambassador he had always admired from afar. He had employed Polis Massans in providing him with a perfect clone. Now that she was in her twelfth year there was no denying the resemblance between Phasma and her mother Padmé Naberrie Amidala. The resemblance better not extend to early deaths he told himself. Phasma still had so much to live for.

He had undertaken this journey on her behalf. He had created a society that would someday benefit from her rule. Already on the streets of Culter City she was referred to as the Martian princess. The thought stuck in his mind for a second. They truly were no longer part of the Empire, even if Tarkin found a way to reach them, there was no way that had been discovered of reaching the home galaxy again, at least not for several lifetimes, and that was only if they were lucky enough to discover it again. Since they weren't Imperials anymore then they would be Martians. One of his last acts upon the surface of Mars, before embarking with the fleet, had been to declare the founding of the 1st Martian Empire. An alien word, but it was what they had become none-the-less. They were the 1st Martian Empire, and he was their Emperor. All that remained was for him to take the throne, he just needed Phasma at his side, for his upcoming victory to be complete.

Captain Dual signaled that every warship was in place.

Yos cleared his throat to make sure he was heard, before turning to the crew of the flag bridge. "Alert all commands. Commence bombardment."


	2. Mallory

Earth Near-Orbit

They came from almost every inhabited planet in the Galactic Empire. Hundreds of civilized systems had sent their sons and daughters to dozens of Imperial Naval Boot Camps, where these sailors were set aside for specialized training in the Naval Gunnery Service. Once they had graduated their advanced schooling they were given the black uniforms and all-encompassing blast shielded helmets of the Imperial Gunner.

Now these beings found themselves at their battle stations staring at monitors that showed the hostile alien world below. Most of them had been at their stations for hours, whether it was a power feed and modulation control, targeting and acquisition , firing control, or even tibanna level monitoring every sailor knew their job and was ready to perform their duty.

Then the order came. "Commence bombardment."

Thousands of safety measures were removed and charging throttles switched to 'vaporizing blow', the high explosive-low penetration setting of the heavy turbolasers. They would wipe cities off the face of the planet below, but still leave it ripe for conquest. Each warship dipped their bow so that every weapon could be brought to bare in the opening bombardment. Primary targets were squarely lined up in the sights of the main batteries of the fleet, though some of them wouldn't come within blocks of their aiming point, when aiming at a planet it hardly mattered.

The first to open fire was the fleet's flagship the _Quill_. Her eight barbette shielded heavy turbolasers erupted on the capitol of the NAU. Within seconds, spread out across the planet, seven Imperial I-class star destroyers and their identical doppelgangers the thirteen Kuati destroyers fired upon twenty of the largest cities of the earth. Each of their six twin-barreled turbolasers instantly punched holes in the ozone and evaporated cloud cover over their intended targets.

The next to fire was the fleet's Venator-class star destroyers. The Clone Wars veterans blasted away with their eight DBY-827 heavy dual turbolaser turrets on targets that surrounded the two cities that had been selected as Target East and Target West. The fourteen warships aimed to cut off all access in and out of the target zones. Spread out across the globe, Fifteen Victory II-class star destroyers pointed their turbolasers at above ground army and navy bases around the world, and opened fire a full minute after the _Quill_ began her bombardment.

At lower orbit the fleet's twenty two Carrack light cruisers targeted the deep bunkers and submerged submarines of the Earth's defense forces. The vessels had replaced their ten heavy turbolasers with a single dual superheavy turbolaser, which had been amped up by the weapon designers under Moff Kuat especially for this duty.

Picket and anti-starfighter duty fell to the _Tarkin's Fist's_ Class-1000, Lianna, CR90, and Pursuit frigates and corvettes, while the supply line was maintained with Mars by the fleet's twenty Star Galleons. The most strategically placed ship was the refining vessel the _Carbon_, placed in orbit around the Earth's moon and hauling enough tibanna to restock the fleet's bunkers twice.

The Gunners aboard the Acclamator IIs and the EF76 Nebulon B escort frigates sited their weapons on the thousands of naval vessels that tried to flee across the world's oceans. They were informed of their capabilities, but Fleet Intelligence had ordered that particular attention be given to the enemy vessels that carried airspeeders. Five Acclamators in Moff Culter's squadron held themselves in reserve for special duties, but their clone gunners remained on alert at their stations awaiting their next orders. Those orders came quickly enough from the Theater Commander Moff Seco, ordering them into action against several secondary cities below, as he committed the brunt of his forces.

Green or red hued plasma and heavy laser blasts seared through the upper atmosphere before smashing into their targets a millionth of a second later. Those thousands of gunners prepared their next volley with a precision honed by hundreds of drills and years of war with the Separatists.

Not a single Imperial Gunner in the fleet questioned how many beings were disintegrated and murdered with each firing of their weapons. Some thought of their own families and friends on Mars and how they were protecting them. Others remembered the dead on the _Insertion_ and felt just retribution whenever they pulled their firing lanyards. Most remembered their service to the Empire and knew that any threat to their supremacy had to be eliminated. All remembered their duty to the _Tarkin's Fist_.

As Earth burned, the Gunners of the fleet did their duty well.

**500 ft above Pacific Coast Highway, Long Beach, Upper California, NAU**

Justin Mallory sat in the rear of the crew compartment of the LUH-80 helicopter as it cruised over the traffic-clogged highway below. Fresh out of Army Ranger School, Justin had been a student at the University of Michigan only a few short months ago. His entire class had been given the option of both enlisting and having a choice of assignments or being drafted and being sent straight into the infantry. When he thought about it, he really never really had a choice at all.

After a condensed version of basic training, Private Mallory had been able to secure a spot in the expanding Rangers. The way the whole Army was gearing up for war with the aliens, Justin would have had to shoot himself in the foot to get passed over by the commandos. His squad packed the hull of the next generation of the Army's Helicopter fleet. Long gone were the old UH-60 Blackhawks that had served the NAU from the time his grandfather had fought in the first Gulf War till the years when his father fought in the mountains of Afghanistan and Pakistan. His older cousins had even seen some service with them during their tours down in South America. He wondered how good these new machines would do him when they made contact with the aliens.

He shifted in his seat and moved to the side of the compartment where he swung his head around the door gunner manning one of the craft's two side M307 Grenade Machine Guns. High above the city, he could make out three diamond-shaped space ships in lower orbit overhead. Every few seconds there would be a flash from one of the aliens and a new explosion would erupt from somewhere in the mountains or suburbs surrounding the metropolis. As he looked around to the east he saw a wall of smoke and flames that cut Los Angeles off from the remainder of the NAU.

He looked back across the compartment and keyed the mike on his radio. "Hey Sarge, how come the ETs aren't plastering the city?"

"Do I look like I know why aliens do anything, Mallory? Consider yourself lucky that they're leaving us alone for right now. Imagine what one of those blasts would do to this bird." The sergeant ignored him and turned to talk to the flight crew.

"Hey, Mallory." His squad mate PFC Horton got his attention by yelling over the prop noise coming from the rotary engine above them. "Why all the questions Bro? Don't worry about anything except for the fireteam, and you'll do alright."

Mallory shouted back, "Yeah, I'm frosty. I just want to know what's going on with the big picture is all." Again he peered below at the highway beneath them as two National Guard SuperApache attack helicopters raced by their slower cousins. Both sides of the highway were fully jam packed with refugees fleeing south. The cars and trucks in the lanes were now at a standstill and civilians were moving by foot back to the north. Mallory peered southwards again and saw the reason why. Even as the sun started to descend over the Pacific it was clear that everything south of their position had taken a hell of a pounding.

Just south of them was Orange County famed for its million dollar mansions and beautiful beaches. Several highways and freeways criss-crossed the unfortunate county and they had been prime targets of the alien vessels overhead. It seemed as if the Imperial Aliens or 'the Empire' as he had heard them called, didn't want anyone escaping in that direction. Even further south was the huge Marine Base at Pendleton and the home of the Pacific Fleet at San Diego. Both of those targets had been surgically wiped off of the map. His helicopter's radio had even reported that San Diego had taken a tremendous barrage of laser fire throughout most of its environs. Thick black smoke that resembled small drifting mushroom clouds rose from the areas south of Los Angeles.

Mallory slunk back into his seat as the helicopter continued its journey northwest towards Long Beach Harbor. He tried to get comfortable in his Level VI Dragon Skin Body Armor and Land Warrior III system. He still had a few minutes before his squad arrived at the LZ and watched the thirty or so other helicopters in their formation hurry along with them. His view out the open door of the compartment gave him a perfect view of the alien starships as they bombarded the remains of Riverside County to his east. He wished he had a better view of what was happening to their North, but that view was blocked by his sergeant and the co-pilot.

"Hey, check it out." Specialist Washington was pointing out of the door on the other side of the craft. Mallory turned his face into the salty breeze coming from the west as he covered his eyes to protect them from the setting sun. Out to sea several columns of smoke steadily climbed into the atmosphere as several off-shore oil rigs blazed away. Closer to shore he saw what his squad mate had been pointing at. A large AEGIS Guided Missile Cruiser had been neatly sliced in two. Its aft section had capsized while the bow of the vessel pointed straight up and towards its out-of-range attackers. Mallory could see several smaller civilian boats heading for the stricken crew in the water as a pair of orange and white Coast Guard helicopters circled over the capsized wreck.

"Bad time to be in the Navy." His Sergeant observed over their radio. The helicopters kept moving north ignoring the looming disasters that surrounded the City of Angels.

Mallory felt his transport start to incline forward as the air cavalry formation started its descent. Below them the houses and streets of Long Beach gave way to the docks and harbor of the Port of Los Angeles. Off in the distance the young private spotted the ancient Queen Mary sitting alone in her berth. He wondered why the aliens hadn't targeted the floating museum, it was much larger than the Navy warship he had witnessed going through its death throes a moment ago.

He checked his weapons to make sure they were secure and at the ready. Strapped to his right leg in place of a side arm was a TDI Vector submachine gun, firing .45 ACP ammo, it could rattle off 800 to 1500 rounds a minute with little or no recoil. His ruck sack and pockets carried another twenty 30 round detachable box magazines for his secondary weapon. Lying across his lap he carried his baby, a modified M6A3-SRT Assault Rifle, capable of firing 700 to 900 5.56x45mm NATO rounds on the enemy per minute. It had become the standard battle rifle of the NAU Armed Forces during the South American War ten years ago.

In his ruck he not only carried ammo for his weapons but also hauled a large MetalStorm anti-vehicle mine, two acoustic mines, enough food and water for a week, a change of uniform, batteries for his land warrior system (luckily they dumped all the weight from their GPS gear after the aliens took out the satellites), fourteen frag grenades, two flash-bangs, his sleeping gear, binos and night vision, and to top it all off twenty extra rounds for the squad's SMAW.

When the helo's skids hit the deck the whole squad piled out along with a hundred other soldiers pouring out of their own transports. Every one of them loaded down with over a hundred pounds of gear, body armor, and ammo. A few officers and a lot of sergeants yelled at the men to seek cover in the warehouses that lined the dock that most of the helicopters were still unloading from. Mallory soon found himself resting in the shade of one of the building's open hanger bay doors with the other three members of his team watching the unloading process. Their sergeant had gone off to find out where the platoon leader wanted them to deploy to.

It made no sense to Mallory. Who knew if the aliens were even going to invade? Like most people of Earth he had watched on the news the arrival of the alien ambassador and had been amused when he had discovered that it had been a human-looking young adolescent girl. If their soldiers were anywhere near the same size as their ambassador, the NAU wasn't going to have any trouble on the ground. The real battles would be fought high above, he figured. They simply couldn't just blast us into oblivion. Could they?

Recently everywhere you went in the NAU you saw propaganda that read 'Survive and Fight' or 'Dig in deep', which really led to a 'endure' mentality amongst the people of the NAU. Mallory just believed this was his planet and hell if he was going to let aliens come and take it away from him. Still if anyone asked him, it had been a stupid move to capture the girl as she was leaving, but nobody ever asked him.

Within a few minutes, large diesel burning two and half ton trucks pulled up to the warehouse. Several companies of soldiers hustled up to the trucks and piled in before their drivers took off again to disperse the troops to defensive positions around the city. Mallory knew he would be joining them soon enough, as well.

"Well it's official." Sergeant Cortez rejoined the squad. He had been busy getting briefed by the Captain out on the dock. Mallory looked that way just as a large CH-47p Chinook off-loaded a 155mm M198 howitzer. Within seconds a deuce and a half truck was attached to the gun and it was being hauled off to a position in the Hollywood hills.

"What's up, Sarge?" PFC Horton asked.

Cortez swung his old M82A3 over his shoulders and hung his hands over both ends. He took a minute to figure out what to say to his men. Mallory just watched as more helicopters, making their way into the city, turned into their approach towards the dock. It was a loud confusing operation for the new soldier. His only real concern was that he stuck close to the other rangers in his squad for now. "It looks like we can expect alien ground forces looking to take LA."

"How can you be sure, it's not like they can't drop anywhere or everywhere with those space ships of theirs." Washington threw in.

"Because they haven't kicked the crap out of us yet. LA's barely been touched, but it has been oddly cut off and isolated. Every road leading in and out of the greater LA area has been smashed by those diamond ships of theirs. That's not the worst of it. They could easily wipe out this city if they wanted to." Cortez explained.

"Wipe out a city, Sarge. All their firepower has been directed at vital targets." Horton suggested, "They probably just want to scare us into surrendering their ambassador or giving into their demands."

"You think so? Well, tell that to the few survivors in Washington D.C., they were the first city smashed by the aliens. How about the people of Houston, Orlando, Atlanta, Ottawa, or Montreal, no wait they're all gone too, same with your hometown of Chicago." Horton suddenly lost all color in his face. "Now LA should have been taken out as well, but high command has noticed that the aliens have been trying to isolate us. Most of this heavy equipment you see being flown in is from the army units that spread out into the desert over the past few weeks. 1st Cavalry Division is waiting for the barrage to let up, and then they're going to try to make a run at getting their armor units back into the city. From what I just heard everything on the west coast has been smashed pretty hard. Vancouver, Portland, San Francisco, San Diego, Mexico City, Phoenix, Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, and Seattle were all first strike targets. The higher ups say that the alien space ships above those cities fired for about a half hour before moving on to secondary targets."

"Secondary targets?" Mallory asked quietly. He was still the new guy in the squad and wasn't sure of his place in it yet.

"Military bases, smaller cities, factories, and power plants mostly, the only thing not getting hit is LA, which is why the Generals think they could be planning on landing here. Though God only knows why they wouldn't want to soften us up first?" Cortez pondered.

Mallory turned back to the harbor where more and more helicopters made their way through the bombardment to bring in more troops. On the far side of the bay a small troopship from somewhere up north brought in more soldiers and sailors to defend the huge Californian city. "Sarge." Mallory got his NCO's attention.

"Yeah."

"Maybe they want as many of us here as they can catch?"


	3. Eritech

Earth, Sol System

Particle beam energy and pure laser shot rained down on the hapless surface of the Earth. In several instances pure plasma or kinetic energy shot was added to the bombardment as well. In the end it didn't matter what type of bolt or round was fired at you, if you found yourself under the heavy guns of the alien fleet, you died.

Everywhere across the surface of the world; man and woman, young and old, soldier and civilian, rich and poor fell to the onslaught of the armada. Some prayed or begged, many ran, while others stood and waited for their chance to strike back. Some futile projectiles were heaved into space after their tormentors, but all were easily brushed aside by the defensive alien fighters that circled everyone of the motherships that fired their salvos and broadsides at the Earth.

The warships themselves fought against their own targeting issues. The vessels at high altitudes moved about at 3.07 km/s while those in lower orbits were capable of moving at 8 km/s while the Earth moved against them. This would cause Turbolaser batteries to miss their targets by several blocks in some cases, but when you were trying to level a city it hardly mattered. The bolts would smash into the ground and still have enough explosive energy to kill or maim everything around them for hundreds of meters.

Special storm commando teams stealthily sneaked in and out of targeted cities directing the turrets onto more precise targets. In the opening bombardment thousands of years of human history was lost to the ages. The iron of the Eiffel Tower melted as the first blasts erupted around the French capital. London, Chicago, and Rome all burned again, while the Kremlin of Moscow and the Acropolis of Athens were smashed. The Forbidden Palace of Beijing and the famous Opera House of Sydney were shattered. India lost its great Taj Mahal, while Berlin and Tokyo suffered more than they had in the last World War.

The pyramids were expected to last another ten thousand years, but survived only the first salvo before another blast turned them to dust. The captain of a star destroyer had suspected they were housing some kind of military force. The Panama and Suez Canals were rendered useless again, as their locks were turned into molten slag and their waters vaporized, and mankind suddenly found itself having to go around the continents again while at sea. Naval bases and Army forts were leveled, though Air Force bases were mainly left alone, as if the aliens didn't understand the importance of runways.

Cities suffered the brunt of the assault. Millions perished screaming out in pain before being consumed by the heat of the blasts. City after city burned, the only two major ones that were spared sat on opposite sides of the ocean waiting for the aliens to come and try to take them out as well.

**Command Bridge, Imperial-class SD **_**Insertion,**_ **Northern Hemisphere, Earth**

It was bound to happen sooner or later, but did it have to happen to his ship-of-the-line. Eritech stood over the Engineering Station of the crew pit monitoring the progress of his damage control parties.

"Status report. Deck Officer." In his guise as Captain Volt he turned to the hapless man below him who had been conversing with crewmen via his comlink until the new Captain interrupted him for a report.

"Turret 3 is still down with a jammed Tibanna Hoist, without it there isn't any blaster gas getting to its turbolasers. Engineering's got a team down there right now working on it. They're reporting they can have it up and running again in twenty minutes. Turret 1 is reporting a strange vibration from underneath the pan floor over their roller path whenever they traverse. They're requesting permission to cease fire until engineering can get someone to take a look at it." The harried deck officer reported.

"Request denied. Inform Gunnery Commander Eiryn that Turret 1 can cut the rate of fire in its battery by fifty percent, but she must continue the bombardment. I'm already down two out of six turbolaser batteries. Speaking of which, is there anymore word on Turret 4's condition." Eritech asked. He wondered if the catastrophe there had been his fault. After last year's attack on the _Insertion_ by the sneaky Earthlings, the warship had never test-fired its main batteries after they had been cleared from months of repairs in the drydock orbiting their base at Mars. They had tested out her engines on a short shake-down cruise to the outer system and back, before they had been ordered into place around the hostile planet Earth to join in with the combined fleet's orbital bombardment.

"Twenty three wounded, thirty nine dead, Sir. All of them were part of Turret 4's compliment. Engineering and damage control have sealed off any further breaches of atmosphere, but they're reporting that the _Insertion_ is going to have to return to drydock again if we want to replace that emplacement." The Deck Officer completed his report.

When the order had come to commence the bombardment of Earth, the _Insertion_ had been standing to, high above its principal target. That target had been a large city on a protruding peninsula from the main continental mass, which went by the name of Seoul, according to Fleet Intelligence. It had been the capital of a country that went by the Korean Union, which had been deemed a strong ally of both the People's Republic of China and the North American Union.

Eritech had opened up with all of his batteries on the Asian metropolis, when six minutes into his bombardment, the _Insertion_ had been rocked by an explosion of her own. Turret 4 in the mid-sponson on the port side of the hull had blown herself into two large halves. Eritech told himself, that he would never forget the sight of one of Turret 4's heavy turbolasers flying past the command bridge's viewports. Engineering suspected a malfunction happening somewhere in the turret's projectile handling floor. Since the turret had been secured for combat operations, the warship had easily confined the damage and loss of atmosphere to that section of the Gunnery Deck.

More important than the loss of a weapon and a highly trained gun crew, was the infliction of further embarrassment upon him and to a smaller degree his vessel. Within moments of the explosion, the fire pouring from his warship began to quickly slacken, and inquiries poured from the command ships of the fleet. Eritech had insisted that the _Insertion_ was still space-worthy, and would continue through her list of targets, but it was rapidly becoming obvious to everyone in the fleet that his ship was falling behind.

When the _Quill_ had contacted him several hours later with an updated target package, Eritech had quickly recognized that several prized targets had been taken away from his gunners and redistributed throughout the fleet.

Eritech bit his lip, and tried to swallow his pride. Not an easy task for the undercover ISB agent. He had poured the firepower of his heavy turbolasers into his secondary targets at Pyongyang, Vladivostok, Harbin, and Mukden, but with each target the _Insertion's _timetables for the attack fell further and further behind the rest of _Tarkin's Fist._ He was sure tongues were wagging about his poor performance amongst the senior captains of the fleet. It was no secret, at least to Eritech, that his commission had been widely unpopular.

As an ISB Major, Tolos Eritech hated the irony that the officers in the Imperial Navy would be watching and judging his performance. He silently wished they were back in the space controlled by the 1st Galactic Empire once again. He had told himself he would go from ship to ship in the _Tarkin's Fist_ with his SE-14r light repeating blaster and put a plasma noodle in the back of the head of each of the traitors.

"Target Beijing is coming into range, Captain." The Deck Officer tore him from his murderous thoughts about his fellow Captains. Eritech looked out of the viewport towards the landmass below. The front of his bow was already dipping to give each of his batteries a clear shot, which also allowed for him to have a clear view of the burning Chinese capital. Target Beijing had been the primary target of the Demolisher-class star destroyer _Implosion_ from Moff Culter's Anoat Squadron. The smaller class vessel had done an extremely effective amount of damage to the city, but due to the fact that she was the capital of one of _Tarkin's Fist's_ most stubborn opponents, she had been deemed worthy of a second bombardment. Eritech saw it as having to clean up after his sister vessel's scraps.

Beijing burned in several locations, and even from their altitude Eritech could tell there were many buildings still standing amongst the rubble. Sensors and long range HoloCams could still detect a lot of movement below, and if the Chinese were indeed still moving troops through the city, then perhaps they did deserve a second helping of the fleet's turbolasers. To the southeast Eritech noted three stationary star destroyers.

"Operations, who are our neighbors to the southeast?" Eritech aimed the inquiry back at the crew pit. The Deck Officer conferred with one of the technicians below before answering.

"Sir, that's the _Drive, Fiend_, and _Imp_. All three of them are Victory IIs from Moff Seco's Ploo Squadron. They're charged with boxing in Target West. At the moment FleetOps is claiming those vessels are bombarding the coastal cities of Nantong and Suzhou."

"What are those warship's secondary targets?" Eritech wondered if he could pick up anyone else's secondary targets, in an attempt to make the _Insertion_ look more stellar in the eyes of Fleet Command once again.

"Sir, they don't have any. Like the star destroyers over Target East, they are to maintain position and continue to seclude both Target cities from their armed forces." Eritech grimaced at the man's answer. He should have known that. He had been over the Fleet Admiral's plan of operation for the conduct of the Empire-Earth War, and had judged it with the disdain of a seasoned ISB agent. He had dismissed certain aspects of the plan as being too timid or not having enough of the proper Imperial Spirit. Eritech had judged the entire escapade as nothing more than a large-scale slave grab and bank robbery, when they should have been launching a war of conquest and domination.

"Fine, leave them be then. Have Turrets 1 and 2 fire upon the general city areas. Turrets 3, 5, and 6 are to fire at any movement, military or civilian, and other targets of opportunity." Eritech ordered the continued torture of the crippled Chinese capital city.

"Aye Aye, Sir." The Deck Officer responded.

"Tell Turret 1 not to stress their battery too much, at least not until we can get Engineering down there to take a look at that vibration of theirs." Eritech hated that he was commanding a wounded warship. Every other starship if the assault squadron of the fleet were all operating at a hundred percent capacity.

"Aye Aye…" The Deck Officer was in the process of acknowledging his commands when ear-splitting klaxons suddenly erupted throughout the starship's command bridge.

"Report!" Eritech ordered as he moved frantically about above the crew pit. The harassed Deck Officer moved from one station to another.

"Sir, it appears the deflector shields are reporting multiple strikes from some type of low-grade laser or beam-tube weaponry. They seem to be coming from just over the port bow."

"Where?" Eritech pressed his palms against the transpiristeel viewport in an attempt to locate the blaster bolts as they approached. "I don't see anything." Several green concentric circles appeared near the bow indicating laser strikes on the warship's ray shields. Eritech was confused. "Are they firing invisible bolts of some kind?" he pondered aloud.

"They're firing on a pretty basic wave-length Captain. The shields are having no problems absorbing the attack." The Deck Officer paused for a second as a new report came across his comlink. "Intelligence thinks it's some kind of anti-satellite weapon. Supposedly the Chinese developed one to engage space-borne targets like the NAU's shuttles and their moon base. Targeting has located the source of the attack, Captain."

"By the Emperor, we should just Caamas the whole planet and be done with it. Gunnery, return fire. Utilize Turrets 5 and 6." Eritech commanded. Within seconds green turbolaser blasts were flung by the heavy batteries towards the nuisance below.

Eighty kilometers northwest of the beleaguered capital a massive military and bunker complex erupted into flame and explosion. Chinese personnel unlucky enough to be caught on the surface burst into flame, while technicians manning the Chinese superweapon below ground were shaken and crushed by the massive concussions caused by the _Insertion's_ barrage. Secondary explosions erupted and consumed the laser facility as the Chinese laser fire upon his warship came to an end.

"Gunnery reports target engaged and destroyed. CommScan is predicting ninety percent destruction of the target." There was a small round of applause from the crew pit, which ceased when Eritech glanced back at them.

"Order another salvo at the target by those two batteries. Then bring them back onto the original Target Beijing." He couldn't believe his poor luck, as he experienced more and more delays.

Eritech watched for hours as the turbolasers of his batteries reduced one Chinese, Mongolian, or Russian city after another to ruins. Eventually Turret 1 returned to full status after an engineering team had found a loose fusioncutter had been accidentally dropped into the inner servos of the Turret bearings, causing it to vibrate every time the battery traversed. If it wasn't one thing it was another, he told himself.

"Sir, we are receiving a Priority One signal from the Theater Commander aboard the _Wilderness_." Eritech raised an eyebrow at the announcement. Why would Moff Seco's flagship by hailing him now. Moff Seco had been given command of the ground and naval forces assaulting the Earth, and was only answerable to the Fleet Admiral, but Eritech had given the fleet regular updates on his ship's status and repairs. They had even made considerable headway and were making up time on their original timetable.

"I will take the call in my quarters. Transfer the signal there." Eritech tucked his arms behind his back and strolled off the bridge. A minute later he entered his own quarters located a deck below the command bridge. Before activating his Holoprojector he activated an old ISB signal scrambler to disparage any one from eavesdropping on his conversation. The bluish image of the Ploo Moff came to electric life in front of him, and both men exchanged salutes.

"Greetings and congratulations, Captain Volt. I am to commend you on your completion of your target package, despite several set-backs." Moff Seco greeted him. After seeing Moff Culter and Moff Kuat constantly on the nightly HoloNews, it was a rare sight to see a Moff dressed in the proper Imperial military uniform of his office.

"Thank you Moff Seco, or should I say Theater Commander? You are too kind. Is there something I can assist you with?" Eritech asked, filled with curiosity.

"I am just making my rounds. I am congratulating the top performing commanders in each squadron."

"I doubt the _Insertion_ was the top performer in the Subterrelian Squadron. We fell far behind the rest of the _Tarkin's Fist_ when we lost our number 4 Turret, due to a malfunction." Eritech explained. "From what I heard the _Quill_ thoroughly smashed the NAU capital, while our sister warships the _Flood_ reduced that Rio city in the Southern Union to ash within nine minutes of her opening salvo, and the _Slash_ obliterated her targets of St. Petersburg, Helsinki, Stockholm, and Oslo in under two hours." Eritech tried to explain away his performance.

"No doubt you were suffering from a severe handicap right out of the starting gate. I find you to be the most capable commander under the Fleet Admiral. It is a shame you weren't serving aboard one of the vessels in my own Ploo squadron."

"It would have been an honor, Sir."

"How do you feel about our mission here on Earth?" Moff Seco seemed to be feeling him out. Eritech had nothing to lose. He knew how unpopular he was amongst the officers of the Subterrel Squadron, as a latecomer to the fleet, he was an outsider. When it came right down to it, Eritech felt the Fleet Admiral wouldn't leave him in command of one of his top warships once the war was over. Eritech laid out his Sabacc hand and explained what he thought of the Admiral's plan, and why he felt they should be conquering the Earth, not just enslaving a portion of them.

"I couldn't agree with you more. I think the Fleet Admiral's timidity has cost him his daughter, and may in the long run cost us the war. The Earthlings are an abundant race, and their very presence begs for conquest. Yos is an old man, if something were to happen to him, I could see to it that your place would be secured within the high command of _Tarkin's Fist_." Seco offered him his patronage.

"Of course, as you know I was newly arrived before the 'big jump', as such my loyalty is to the commander who gives us victory and of course the spoils of war." Eritech gave the Moff an inquiring look, and for a long moment each man studied the other. Before long it was as if an agreement had been reached between the two.

"Many of us are not like the Fleet Admiral, Captain Volt; we know how to reward loyalty. I insist that we meet in person within the week. There are many things I would like to discuss with you that I am sure you would find intriguing." Seco offered the invitation.

"That would be delightful, perhaps in a week or so. The _Insertion_ will be quite occupied with the orbital bombardment and ground support missions for the next few days." Eritech slightly differed.

"Agreed, my own vessel is currently engaged with targets over the European Union. I will be in contact. Long Live the Emperor." Moff Seco's image performed the Imperial salute and vanished as the connection was severed on his end. Eritech stood in shock. He hadn't heard that particular farewell since he had arrived aboard the _Tarkin's Fist_. Had Eritech finally found a fellow officer who missed the proper order of the Empire? Had he finally found an ally and such a high ranking one as well?

What had he said about the Fleet Admiral? If something happened to him, Volt's place in the fleet would be secured by the Ploo Moff. Eritech knew of something that could possibly happen to the traitorous Fleet Admiral.

Major Eritech of the Imperial Security Bureau knelt beside his bunk and reached under it, to pull out a large gray metallic case. He set the case on top of his bunk and released the security latches. He had found the contents in the days after the big jump, when power was being slowly restored to the ship. At a time when it had been easy for him to remove any evidence of its existence in the _Insertion's_ computer core.

Eritech stared down at the blue glowing proton bomb that he had hidden away for over a year. Eritech knew how to make something happen.


	4. SF4738

Command Bay, EF76 Nebuon B escort frigate, _Rancor's Bride, _Stratosphere, Eastern Pacific

"Commander, we are tracking forty-one seaborne targets." The technician at the Gunnery Targeting station informed the seasoned captain. The bridge was lit by the soft, red electronic glow of instrument panels and the distant light from the earth's local moon.

The _Rancor's Bride_, as well as her twin the _Misnamed_, had been stationed over Target Acapulco when the bombardment had began, and had been limited to observation duties as her heavier cousins, the Star Destroyers of _Tarkin's Fist,_ had hammered the resisting Earthlings in their cities. The long frigate, with her two masts situated along her skinny central boom, had long been relegated to escort duty for most Imperial fleets. The only thing that had allowed them to join in the campaign was her single turbolaser, which was usually employed in anti-capitol starship duties. But as the local sun had descended over the lesser continental mass they had been ordered out over the oceans of the world on a seek and destroy mission against the naval forces of the rogue planet.

"What do we have, Lieutenant?" The vessel's commander asked his executive officer, who was standing over the sensor station conversing with the ensign manning the controls of the reconnaissance gear. She answered him without even turning around.

"Forty one naval vessels Sir, all of them look like classes belonging to the NAU. We're seeing everything from fleet tenders to at least one of their _Ford_-class Airspeeder carriers. Targeting is identifying it as their newest ship the _Barack Obama_ out of Target San Diego."

"Very well. Time to targets?" The commander asked.

"Two minutes Sir. Gunnery is already powering up the X17 turbolaser." She answered.

"Notify the _Misnamed_," he said, referring to their partner. Outside the bridge viewport their partner, another EF76 that was cruising ahead of them over the coast of western Baja California, glided silently through space. " Tell her to come alongside and then we'll start to box them in.

Command Bridge, Gerald Ford-class AC, _Barack Obama,_ 250 miles west of Ensenada, Baja California

"Admiral, we are tracking two enemy vessels in near-Earth orbit advancing on our position. ETA two minutes!" the XO shouted across the bridge from his position at the MFR/VSR Radar Monitoring Station.

Dammit, the flag officer thought. He figured, after they had foolishly been ordered to set sail, that if they had fled the naval bases at San Diego before the attack that they would be safe if they could only make it into the wide open spaces of the Pacific. It was their only chance. He had argued with the Pentagon that a space-based enemy would eventually track them down. He had even gone so far as to suggest that most of the ships of the NAU Navy should be abandoned in port while her sailors were turned into marines and given a fighting chance on land. The Joint Chiefs, however, just couldn't see themselves throwing away billion-amero warships without ever firing a shot. As a result he had been ordered to sea right after they had kidnapped that alien kid ambassador.

"Sound battle stations. I want every plane, and I mean every plane, fueled and launched ASAP people. Get on the horn with COMPAC and let him know we're about to come under attack." He hoped that those pilots could at least make it back to Mexico if he lost the _Obama_. He tried to peer into space for a glimpse at his attackers as they made their approach, but a blanket of low-hanging clouds obscured his view.

"Notify all ships to commence evasive actions. Tell them to split up and meet at the rendezvous point at Palmyra." He ordered. The Admiral looked down at the flight deck, which had suddenly become an organized chaos of high-tech fighters and bombers being raised from the hanger deck by the ship's three elevators. They moved into position on the warship's catapults as EMALs were raised behind them to protect against jet blast. Within seconds they rocketed away, just to quickly be replaced by the next aircraft in line.

The whole performance was like a choreographed dance. His deck crews were professionals that had served in combat conditions around the world. He hoped they'd still be in a position to continue that service a few minutes from now.

"Admiral, is there any way we can shoot back?" the XO asked.

"None that I know of, Son."

Command Bay, EF76 Nebulon B, _Misnamed_

"They're scattering, Commander." The executive officer stated calmly on the darkened bridge.

"Notify _Rancor's Bride._ We'll take the north and they can have the south. We'll meet in the middle. Keep an eye out for any ships launching airspeeders. That'll be their flagship." The Commander ordered calmly, while sipping from a cup of caf.

"First target sited. AEGIS class cruiser, _Toronto_, according to Targeting."

"Fire at will." the Commander ordered.

Several decks below him, at the bottom of the boom mast on the bow of his frigate, the ship's only X17 turbolaser unleashed its first shot of the engagement.

_Barrack Obama_

On the horizon a bolt of straight, green lightning flashed, followed by a small explosion as one of his escorts met a fiery death. By its location on the ocean the Admiral knew before Ops even reported.

"Sir, it's the _Toronto_. She was hit and she's not responding to commo."

"Start drastic zig-zagging, maybe we can throw off their aim a bit." The Admiral remembered how the ship designers had told the Navy the _Fords_ could turn on a dime, maybe now was the time to see if they had been sold a bill of goods or not. "Tell the rest of the fleet to break up and make for the rendezvous or back to Mexico on their own. Let me know the second we launch the last plane."

_Rancor's Bride_

"Come on, I thought you beings were the best gunners in the Imperial Navy." The Commander laid into the two technicians manning the controls of the X17.

Their first target was a smallish destroyer escort according to the targeting computer. It should have been a sitting mynock, but the thing moved like a Mon Cal Eel and they had already fired five ineffectual blaster bolts into the ocean waters around her.

"Her Captain's really good, Sir. Whenever we track her, she moves hard to port or starboard and evades the shot."

"Bracket it into a box. She can't dodge forever." He wished the turbolaser would recharge faster. As it was, it was giving him one shot every thirty five seconds or so. His twin the _Misnamed_ had already claimed a target with its first shot.

"Firing." The gunner announced. This time they were rewarded with the bright flash of an impact amidships.

"Good shot Gunner." The Commander congratulated his crewmen as the long-range HoloCams on the bridge's HoloImager caught the ship being ripped apart by internal explosions. His executive officer pointed at the image a few seconds later.

"Crew in the water, Commander." She observed.

"Ignore them. Find the next target."

_Barrack Obama_

Thirteen ships of the NAU were now slowly settling on the bottom of the Eastern Pacific. The Admiral tried not to think of how many lives had been wasted. He at least felt fortunate in that all of his planes had been launched and the flight deck crew was prepping the last of his seaborne helicopters for lift off.

Suddenly one of those strange green lasers sent up a plume of superheated seawater that washed over the bow, scalding the flight deck crew positioned there, and leaving the front of his ship bathed in steam.

"Hard to starboard." He screamed. The helmsman instantly obeyed his order. The entire ship pitched to the right. The angle on the flight deck pitched one of the helicopters and its crew over the side. Man-over-board alarms blared throughout the carrier. A few seconds another flash of green struck the ocean in the spot the _Obama_ would have been if not for the evasive action.

"Fire the MetalStorm and the Sea Sparrow IIs." The Admiral commanded.

"Sir, they're still well out of range." The ship's Captain argued.

"I know. Fire them anyways." The Admiral knew it was futile, but it might just buy a few more seconds for those flight crews to get clear.

_Misnamed_

"Evasive action." The Commander screamed over the attack warning sirens. He was sure he had beaten the _Rancor's Bride_ to the prize when he had fired two blasts at the enemy airspeeder carrier. He had perfectly bracketed her and was only waiting for was his turbolaser to recharge before he delivered the killing stroke.

Then the thing had gone and fired several dozen medium sized anti-airspeeder and anti-ship missiles at them. He took the ship to higher orbit as the projectiles climbed for altitude in his wake. A moment later, his SigInt technician notified him that the missiles ran out of fuel well before they reached his previous position. The projectiles were currently falling back towards the Earth and crashing harmlessly into the ocean.

"Gunnery, find us a new target. Leave that one for the _Rancor's Bride_."

_Rancor's Bride_

"She's almost on her side." His executive officer observed as they watched the airspeeder carrier pitch from one side to the next as she tried in vain to avoid the bolts coming from his vessel's turbolaser.

"We have her. Where do you want the next shot, Commander?" A gunner inquired, his words dripping with bluster and cheek.

"Don't get cocky Kid. Put her propellers out of commission. Enough of this insane ducking and weaving. I want her dead in the water. Fire."

The gunner pulled the firing lanyard.

_Barrack Obama_

The blast ripped through the fantail with enough force to pick up the Admiral and pitch him across the bridge. The _Obama_ gave another lurch before she came to a complete stop. The Admiral tasted blood in his mouth as he tried to stand again. Pain shot up his leg indicating that his left ankle was probably broken. He leaned against the shattered bridge window and took stock of the situation around him.

The aft deck of his ship was a raging inferno of flame and thick oily smoke as thousands of gallons of high-grade jet fuel burned off. Dozens of prone bodies littered his flight deck as sudden, jerking shock waves told of munitions and bombs cooking off somewhere below decks.

Fire crews raced to contain the damage only to be decimated as a damaged helicopter exploded in a deadly burst of flaming shrapnel. The arriving damage control parties were cut down as if by a giant sheath. Their fire hoses flopped on the mangled deck, sliced in a hundred different places.

"Damage report." He called out. He could see the Captain's body lying prone in the back of the bridge.

"Propulsion's out." Someone yelled. He thought it was the XO.

"We're taking on water below decks." Someone else reported. Suddenly another green flash smashed straight through the flight deck. He was rocked again by the impact but maintained his footing. The last surviving helicopter erupted into a ball of flames and washed over part of the port side, crashing into the waters below. Then he noticed the spot the second shot had drilled into his deck; it rested directly over the carrier's reactor power plant. For a second he wondered how much radiation his crew was soaking up.

And then another green flash slammed into the bridge and the Admiral never wondered anything again.

_Rancor's Bride_

"Inform _Tarkin's Fist_ Command that we have engaged and destroyed forty one targets with the assistance of the _Misnamed_." He looked again at the battered remains of several ships that still hadn't slipped under the waves. The _Misnamed_ was nearby firing on the wrecks to encouraging them to the bottom.

His crew watched as several airspeeders escaped to the east, but his frigate was in no position to challenge them. His executive officer noted hundreds of large orange flotation devices in the waters around most of the sunken vessels. As fellow sailors, he wished those few stricken survivors the best of luck as they bobbed on the surface of the large unforgiving ocean.

"Helm, take us south back along the coast. Continue scanning for new targets."

**Hanger Bay, Acclamator I Troopship, **_**Fortune Wheel**_**, Holding Orbit, Earth**

SF-4738 had been in this same situation a thousand times before in his time in the service, but it was driving the new recruits a little stir crazy. They had been called to form up by battalions in the hanger bays of the troopships almost six hours ago. SF-4738 recognized the old hurry-up and wait routine from a hundred battle drills before.

He sat on the ledge of one of the MAAT/i transports that had been assigned to his platoon, with one leg dangling over the side and his elbow resting on the other knee that he had propped up on the deck of the craft. He had his old Blastech E-11 blaster strapped to his back, while he slowly honed the edge on his vibrobayonet to pass the time. Two of his old troopers, HF-3105 and NJ-6166, sat propped against the MAAT below him. Both of them had their eyes closed and were catching as much shut-eye as they could before they got the signal to jump into combat. They had both been in the Corps long enough to know that sleep was a precious commodity in a battle. SF-4738 contemplated getting some rest in the brightly lit and noisy hanger bay as well but he knew the second he tried it somebody would need him for something.

Platoon leader Lieutenant Mahan was off at a huge map reader in the middle of the large bay along with a dozen other junior officers of the 6th Battalion, 395th Legion, 2nd Martian Line Corps. The holoprojection the device emitted was a large blue depiction of Target East. It was his unit's objective.

The Platoon Sergeant had wandered over to the machine earlier and watched real-time bombardment results from the fleet's HoloCams. The city had remained nearly untouched, except for the stray heavy turbolaser round that had leveled a few blocks here and there. The barrage had done a great job cutting the metropolis off from its allies. The ground for almost ten kilometers around Target East had almost been turned to molten glass by the heat of the plasma bolts in the fleet's salvos. He had looked it over for a minute or two before he figured everything was going as the high command had planned it, which was all he needed to know.

It would be an urban battle, but he had figured that out beforehand. Orders had already come down the pipe that they were to take as many civilian prisoners as they could lay their hands on. You just didn't find large populations of any kind in the countryside, but who knew, maybe these Earthlings were different. Their weaponry was certainly backwards enough. Mahan had told him an hour ago that the Terrans were bringing in a lot of that weaponry by airspeeders and aquatic boats from their forces outside of the blast zone. They were building up their troop levels in Target East as well. Evidently they had figured out the Empire was on their way. Just more prisoners lining up to get captured, he figured. He just wished Fleet Command would get on with it and order them in. The more time you gave enemies to dig in the worse it would be once they hit the ground.

SF-4738 figured they could handle it though. The four MAAT/is of his platoon not only carried twenty-five troopers each, but were packed with the E-Webs and Merr-Sonn PLX-2M missile tubes. If the Earthlings dug in his boys would bury them. To emphasize the point he peered at the front of the hanger where a pair of _Eta_-class AT-AT landing barges rested. Each of the craft carried four of the armored behemoths as well as a compliment of AT-STs. They would pound the hell out of anything that put up a fight with the Stormtrooper Corps. Since the day he had signed the enlistment datapad the Empire had never lost a fight, and he'd be damned if they would while he could still carry a blaster.

A couple of sorry-looking troopers passed in front of his MAAT/i. Several newbies paced back and forth across the hanger trying to burn off nervous energy, but he recognized these two as members of his own platoon. No doubt they had been wandering about, embarrassing the good name of the 3rd Platoon. SF-4738 got up and strolled over to the pair of noobs. "ST-2934, LN-7549 get your _shebs_ over here."

The two shinies hurried over to their NCO, the fear of the Emperor in their eyes. He preferred them that way, since it would benefit them to be more afraid of him than the enemy when the bolts and slugs started flying. It wouldn't stand to have half his platoon freeze up with the jeeblies once they hit dirtside; probably end up getting his own head blasted off in the process.

Both troopers came to rest in the at ease position in front of their NCO. ST-2934 had his body glove bunched up around one shoulder so that his arm plates were hanging off. SF-4738 pulled off the plates, tugged the body glove down, and then slapped the plastoid plates back onto the hapless trooper's arm.

"Thanks, Sarge." The private nervously chattered. SF-4738 physically spun him around tightening up plates and straps on the young stormtrooper's gear in an effort to reduce the trooper's battle rattle. LN-7549 had much of the same problems except for one serious exception.

SF-4738's eyes went wide. "Private, is your thermal detonator active?" his face grew red as he spun the stormtrooper around and reached for the grenade on the back of the trooper's utility belt. With a quick flip he deactivated the lethal device. The thought of the weapon coming loose while they had been in a packed MAAT/i sent shivers down SF-4738's spine. He quickly reacted and slapped the ignorant trooper across the face.

"Stang it Trooper, you need to get tactical. You could have blown up your whole squad, several squads if we were in route to the LZ." He smacked the male again on the top of his head. The commotion had drawn the attention of several other troopers in the platoon, and the stormtrooper's own Corporal came over to further berate the trooper. "7549 you need to get your head on straight. Mistakes like that when we hit the dirt are going to get you killed or worse; you could get me killed. Do you get me, Son?"

"I get you Sergeant!" He screamed, with a look of shock and panic crossing his features.

"2934 you need to look out for your buddy when we hit the dirt. You and him need to watch each other's backs or the abos down there are going to slit your throats. Do you get me?"

"We get you Sergeant!" they shouted, and SF-4738 spun around and stomped off in disgust. He could hear the Corporal chewing out the two shinies as he left. He looked down the long lines of MAAT/i and noticed several other senior NCOs nodding their approval in his direction.

Ahead of him standing in the crew hatch of his own MAAT/i was his platoon leader 1st Lieutenant Mahan. JN-6166 and HF-3105 remained sleeping against the hull of the craft beneath their commander. Mahan didn't pay them any notice.

"Problems over there, Sarge?" Mahan greeted him.

"Nothing I couldn't get straightened out, Sir. The lads are rearing to go." He responded.

"I see that." He motioned at the two sleeping troopers beneath him. SF-4738 just smiled in response. He couldn't blame the men for sneaking a rest until they were needed. All in all there were probably over a hundred troopers scattered about the hanger doing the same thing as the Vacheads in the Navy twiddled their thumbs about launching the invasion.

Mahan held a stormtrooper helmet underneath his arm and was covered head to toe in the new ballistic armor Moff Kuat had designed to stand-up to the slugthrowers the Earthlings carried. Both the platoon leader and the sergeant had camouflaged the white plastoid with stripes of gray, black, and light blue to enable them to blend in better with the urban environment they were expected to be facing once they hit the dirt. SF-4738 was relieved that the officers of the Corps had been ordered to don the armor as well as carry E-11s of their own into the upcoming battle. It would save lives and he had grown fond of the young Loot.

Their armor carried several new features besides the camouflage. Designed to especially stand up to kinetic energy shot, they also sported newer body gloves, communication and locator gear, as well as Clone War era Heads Up Displays, or HUDs, inside their helmets, which gave them a barrage of battlefield data at the flick of an eyelid. The things would have been sliced up pretty good if they ever went up against proper troopers armed with blasters but they'd shake off whatever the earthlings threw at them.

The whole Corps was different, not only were the officers different, in that they seemed to actually care about the welfare of their troopers, but there were more troopers in every unit. The Fleet Admiral had redesigned the Corps of the Martian Sector Army based on some ancient Earth Empire. Now every unit was a multiple of ten, and as a platoon sergeant he was responsible for a hundred troopers, counting Mahan and himself. To SF-4738 every unit was now an over-stuffed, over-sized version of what it had used to be under the Empire.

Not that there was much of an Empire out here, he repeated the unofficial motto of Tarkin's Fist to himself. SF-4738 had even noticed the words Martian and Mars slowly replacing the usage of the word Imperial throughout the fleet, and especially back in Culter City. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had joined up to serve his Empire, but after witnessing the useless deaths of thousands of Imperial Stormtroopers on a dozen pointless battlefields he found himself caring less and less about serving at Palpatine's whim and leisure.

A blaring announcement from the warship's public address system tore him from his thoughts. "All troopers man your transports! All troopers man your transports!" It repeated over and over. Lieutenant Mahan reached down and offered him a hand in climbing up into the giant MAAT/i. Behind him thousands of troopers, made up of enlisted men, ge-nodes, and a few Centax-2 clones, rushed to their transports. SF-4738 was a little relieved when he witnessed ST-2934 and LN-7549 climbing into the transport behind his.

_Sentinel_-class landing shuttles led the way out of the hanger as they carried the Scout trooper companies, while _Lambda_-class shuttles hovered above the hanger doors. Those shuttles carried the Headquarters units of the battalion.

The transport lurched as it lifted off the deck. SF-4738 approached the cockpit and was able to glimpse a bit of the MAAT's trajectory around the pilot as he maneuvered the craft past the slow moving AT-AT barges that were vacating the hanger as well. Within several minutes of travel they came across a region in the Earth's upper atmosphere that was crammed with landing craft of every kind. LAATs and MAATs circled endlessly within their own units above a beautiful blue ocean covered with patches of white clouds and black smoke far below. _Lambdas, Gamma,_ and _Sentinels_ stayed in their own holding patterns, while several Acclamators packed to the gills with troops and equipment waited above the landing forces. Every now and then a _Nu_-class assault shuttle would race through the fleet towards the planet below as they carried their cargoes of commandos to unseen targets dirtside.

SF-4738 had never seen an invasion on this scale. Truth be told, he had never heard of anyone not surrendering immediately after suffering an orbital bombardment. Maybe these Terrans were tougher than he thought. Or dumber.

His transport circled for hours and he figured it was more hurry up and wait. He stepped back into the crew compartment, where even his veteran troops were getting anxious in the cramped, red-lit hull.

"Sarge, are we going in yet?" JN-6166 asked. The veteran trooper was now wide awake after his nap in the hanger. SF-4738 hoped all of his troopers were wide-awake and alert on the eve of battle.

"By the Emperor, we damn well better be." Suddenly the craft dipped forward. The temperature started to rise as the MAAT/i hit the atmosphere. "Get tactical boys! We're going in!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Tarkin's Fist~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dirtside~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**First off, I wanted to thank the betas for their role in fixing the story - you certainly helped to iron out some of the mistakes I made! I know I asked other people to read it, but somehow either I made a mistake in DocX or there was an error in communication. In any case, please excuse me. This fic is about the Empire attacking Earth; I like to have a deep plot and geekery in terms of military equipment on all sides, so if you want a really lighthearted kiddyfic this is probably not for you (you can give it a try though!). Though George Lucas doesn't exist in the story, he certainly does in real life and he owns this universe. If you want to use my characters or story in any way, please ask. Lastly, if you do read the story, please leave a review! I really appreciate it!**


	5. Jason

Earth

They watched as the blinding, green-hued rays of death smashed into their bases and forts by the thousands. Ordered by their generals into the field, the soldiers, sailors, and airmen of the armed forces of dozens of nations and unions had scrambled to grab whatever equipment and supplies they could as the alien armada had taken up a position high above them.

As one, the enemy warships had opened fire on military complex and civilian city alike. Soldiers crouched down in their tanks and foxholes, some so close to the blasts their teeth rattled and their eyes and ears bled. Those who were even closer never got the chance to tell of their experience. At sea, the sailors of nations that had never negotiated with the aliens watched as the mightiest of their warships sank beneath the waves, while elsewhere sailors and marines clung to life rafts and debris of the steel monsters that used to rule the oceans. Civilians cowered in the ruins of their once majestic cities, crying out in futility as their world collapsed around them.

The countries that had dared to defy the alien Empire to its face had perhaps suffered the worst from the barrage, but you couldn't tell by looking at the rest of the beleaguered Earth. Everywhere death and destruction roamed like a murderous, man-eating predator, taking a grim toll on the populations of the blue world.

As bad as it was, it could have been far worse. The aliens seemed to have a preternatural ability to destroy valuable targets, but they had taken their time about it. Bunkers, barracks, and bases had been abandoned for the countryside, and millions of civilians had fled the cities as the alien dreadnaughts took up firing positions over them.

Now those same soldiers who had been ordered to flee huddled in fields, woods, or mountains and watched their former barracks burn. Those magnificent, other-worldly blasts erupted with super-powered plasma energy when they struck the Earth, followed by waves of heat and kinetic energy that exploded outwards with enough force to destroy everything within in its powerful grasp. Many soldiers prayed or hoped that their families had made it out of the cities; others cried or punched the sides of their armored vehicles till their hands broke and bled. Some turned their weapons on themselves and tried to end the fear another way. Each of them tested their own personal resolve in those dark hours when fire and heat lit the surrounding night like a mid-summer day.

In the barrage, buildings and equipment were blown sky high, just to land amongst those armies that watched and waited. Falling debris took lives miles from every impact, and the soldiers crouched further down in their armored vehicles and bunkers. The only equipment and supplies they would receive from now on was on their backs or the rear decks of their vehicles. High-tech fighter jets circled for hours looking for a base at which to land, with hundreds finally touching down on empty stretches of road, where they were surprisingly greeted by the fellow soldiers and airmen who helped put those planes back in the air again.

No, they may have been hurt and in hiding, but they were far from crippled. Millions of survivors glared at the enemy starships high above even as they watched their comrades bleed to death alongside unnamed fields and pastures. They knew that the aliens would have to come down to the ground if they wanted to win. Those millions of soldiers and sailors would be waiting for them when they did, and every one of them vowed the aliens would pay for what they had done.

**Hawai'i Convention Center, Honolulu, Hawaii, NAU**

The Sci-Fi exhibits inside the glass convention hall had lost all appeal to the trio of young MIT undergraduates sitting on the curb, the three of them were currently surrounded by an odd assortment of costumed aliens. Jason Bogan, the youngest of the three students, had decided to spend his twenty-first birthday with his two best friends at the Star Trek Sci-Fi Convention on the island paradise of Honolulu, Hawaii. Now he thought back to the events of this strange trip, and how they arrived on this curb in the first place.

It had been a great idea at first. MIT was one of the few colleges in the North American Union that hadn't shut their doors due to low enrollment caused by enlistments and the draft that had pulled in so many of their peers over the past few months. When the alien ambassador had arrived over spring break they had almost decided to try San Francisco in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her, but their childhood love of the Star Trek television show had driven them out to the Aloha State instead. It was a good decision anyways; the alien ambassador had been directed to a naval base and the only look anyone ever got of her was on the news.

Jason and his two friends, Eddie Marquand and Rick Kershner, had arrived on one of the last flights into Honolulu before the proximity of the alien fleet had grounded all commercial and international flights. Early that morning, a few spotty phone calls to their families had let everyone know that they were alright, but for the most part stranded. Jason's mother had assured him there were worst places to be stuck in. His father had told him they were leaving the city, and if he could make it back they were heading to an uncle's cabin in Wisconsin. Jason had told them he'd try to make it there but static ended the phone call before he could tell them he loved them.

It reminded him of the static he had first heard a year ago when the alien arrival had turned his state-of-the-art cellphone into an expensive paperweight. As an engineering student it frustrated him to no end to be disconnected from his friends and thrown back half a century technology-wise. On top of evrything else he had the added concern for the safety of his unreachable family.

Eddie had the same luck with his family, but Rick never got a hold of his parents in Miami. Strange, since Jason figured their land-line calls were traveling by fiber optic cables under the ocean. What was happening on the receiving end, he wondered. Were Rick's parents even still in Miami? Was Miami still there?

Despite the obvious stress and worry the three still had sight-seeing to do, besides the convention. Throughout the cool island morning they had hiked across Honolulu. On the tour of the _Arizona_ Memorial they noticed that besides the USN _Missouri_ Museum there wasn't a single other naval vessel in the enormous port. Rick had speculated to the other two that the Pacific Fleet was probably doing its best to avoid another Pearl Harbor and must have been hiding somewhere out in the deep blue Pacific.

Jason noticed dozens of fast fighter craft in patrol over the islands, and realized most of the military hadn't completely abandoned the islands. Rick didn't want to talk much, especially when Jason had pressed him about not being able to talk to his folks. Eddie just looked at the whole thing like the adventure of a lifetime and was more anxious than usual. Jason figured it was about getting to the convention that afternoon.

Eddie was the first to see them, three ghostly diamond-shaped craft moving west at the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The sun caught each of the starships, illuminating them like the moon in the morning sky. Jason wondered just how high they were, as they disappeared over the horizon.

"Doesn't look like they were heading for us." Eddie suggested.

"Those ones at least," Rick said, "I heard from a girl who's an Astronomy Major that there's several dozen of them near Mars. Could be another one over Asia heading our way as we speak."

"All the more reason to get to the convention before we miss it." Eddie said. Over the usual noise of the busy metropolis tsunami sirens started warbling with their pitching wail that was reminiscent of ancient air raid sirens Jason had heard on the History Channel. The three young men stared at each other in confusion.

"That's all we need is a tidal wave on top of an alien invasion." Jason said as he waved down a passing cab. Public transportation was the only means of travel ever since the government started rationing gas a few months earlier. As they got in the taxi Jason hoped the sirens were in fact for a small tsunami or storm warning and not some other impending extraterrestrial disaster.

When they arrived at the convention center it was already being emptied. They stood on that curb and watched as uniformed Trekie fanboys and costumed aliens of every sort were being ushered out of the building, as one by one the doors were locked from the inside by security personnel. The growing crowd poured out into the streets of the Hawaiian capital around them, as several large trucks full of National Guard troops slowly ground to a stop nearby. Two police officers on motorcycles yelled at the crowd to disperse and get out of the way of the convoy.

Jason stopped a teenage kid dressed as a Klingon who was brushing past the three students. "Hey, Man. What's going on?"

The Klingon teen shrugged, "Haven't you heard? There's a war on. The aliens are landing on the mainland, so the Governor has declared a state of emergency for Hawaii. The whole island is shutting down." The teen turned and pressed his way into the growing crowd.

The crowd itself was one of the strangest sights Jason had ever hoped to see. Aliens from every season of Star Trek as well as hundreds of Star Trek crew milled about in the street with native Hawaiians. Most of them were speculating as to what was going on back on the mainland. A few of the laid back natives politely moved for the traffic police, but even more of the them tried to pretend the National Guard convoy didn't exist at all.

Before the college students could voice their disappointment, a collective gasp rose from the surrounding crowd, quickly followed by screams of terror. The boys turned their heads and looked up into the afternoon sky over the Pacific.

Unlike the disc-shaped spaceships the three of them had dreamed about with excitement since they were children, the arrow-headed shape above them filled them with dread. Obviously still miles up into the atmosphere, the strange craft appeared the size of the moon in the sky when it came to a halt high above. Jason realized the size of the starship when several NAU fighter jets screamed overhead as they approached the distant spacecraft and shrunk to the size of tiny black dots as they neared the alien vessel.

"The _Enterprise_ could take her." Eddie said.

"If it wasn't a CGI prop from a TV show." Rick replied. None of the other boys, except Jason, noticed the crowd starting to disperse in every direction as people sought out some semblance of safety. The MIT student wouldn't even know where to begin to look for shelter, so instead he just stood among hundreds of startled Hawaiians and tourists who stood with their mouths agape and waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Jason could make out panicked discussions and speculations in the crowd. All around him Jason caught snippets of hushed, fearful conversations...

"Washington's already been taken out."

"The Air Force is fighting back."

"They've already landed everywhere on the mainland."

"I thought we'd be safe way out here."

"New York's been destroyed. Same with Mexico City."

"I hear they're attacking all over the world."

Jason wondered where people were getting their information. Eddie's and Rick's heads turned this way and that as they tried to pick up every scrap of rumor and information floating amongst the mob.

Suddenly, red flashes of light lit up the shadows beneath the alien spacecraft, followed by several of the earth fighters high above moving erratically in high speed maneuvers as many of them started trailing smoke and fire or simply exploded high in the atmosphere. Screams from the crowd announced a blind panic as the remains of the mob started to break up in every direction.

Eddie started pulling both of his friends by the arm in the direction of the beachfront. "Guys, let's get the Hell out of here!"

"Run to the beach!" Rick shouted.

"Are you sure we'll be safe there?" Jason asked.

"Well there aren't any buildings on the sand for the aliens to shoot up, and if there's a fire we can get in the water." Rick explained. It made sense to the other two, and they started to run, while at the same time follow the action above with their necks craned back to watch. The surviving NAU fighters were fleeing to the south away from the monstrous craft.

Jason saw a woman dressed as a four-armed alien crash to the ground, but the surge of his friends and the frightened crowd pushed him forward. His ears picked up the pseudo-alien's screams as she was trampled by the mob. The guilt he felt at leaving her was quickly swallowed by his own panic.

"This is not happening. This is not happening." Jason chanted unconsciously out of fear as he ran.

Another flash from the intruding warship and a sudden bolt of green energy slammed into the Punchbowl Crater in the hills behind them. A sharp crack of thunder was heard over the blaring sirens as mud and boulders shot high in the sky before raining down upon the city moments later. Before they could process what had just happened, another green blast impacted in the waters off of Waikiki Beach, creating a plume of water that shot over a hundred meters in the air and could be witnessed over the rooftops of nearby buildings.

"Phasers?" Eddie questioned in astonishment. "They're using phasers on us."

"And they've got us bracketed. The next one is going to come down right on top of us." Jason screamed as he started running towards the ocean as fast as his feet could take him, the other two students running hard at his side.

As if his words were prophecy six explosions shock-waved through the city simultaneously as the ship above let loose with each of its main guns. From Ewa Beach in the west to Diamond Head in the east, massive impacts rocked the stricken city. Concrete, wood, and glass became projectiles as blocks of buildings and homes were blown apart, their occupants flashed burned alive. Only a moment later another barrage let loose from their tormentor above.

The boys found themselves running alongside members of the National Guard, which were fleeing their stalled vehicles and moving towards the beaches as well. Jason heard the sound of shattering glass and turned his head in time to see the collapse of the convention center as an alien blast impacted somewhere behind the building. The shattered glass shredded the security personnel and costumed aliens that had remained in front of the edifice.

A block somewhere ahead of them exploded as they ran and National Guard troops and Hawaiians fell as shrapnel and debris fell among them. Jason felt a tug on his shorts and looked down in surprise to see that the right pocket had been torn off by a piece of flying rubble. An inch to the left and it would have been his leg that was torn off he realized with shock.

Sirens sounded ahead announcing that emergency personnel were fighting the fires blazing across the city, but as the three boys rounded a corner they were greeted by a new horror. The front end of a cherry red firetruck was parked along the side of the street, its rear end atomized, the blackened corpses that littered the ground all that remained of its crew. Jason averted his eyes as Eddie lost an internal battle with his stomach and vomited its contents onto the street's melted asphalt.

They moved as ghosts as the sound of explosions filled their ears and the dust of hundreds of newly created ruins crumbled around them. Only a few more blocks to go. Jason was thankful the noise and chaos of the bombardment covered the thousands of screams of those dying within the rubble.

Suddenly the shattered concrete turned to warm white sand as they picked their way through the rubble pile of the collapsed Halekulani Hotel and made their way onto the shoreline. Already hundreds of refugees clogged the water ahead of them and small boats and surfboards darted here and there rescuing swimmers from deeper water. Through the smoke Jason could see the tide was quickly turning to gray as ash and other debris dissolved in the long rolling surf. The boys wasted no time in wading out into chest deep water. No one paid any attention to them as the survivors of the attack stared back at the former island paradise. So few were able to process anything.

Jason stared in awe at the fires burning across the city and up the vegetation along Diamond Head. He wondered why the attack hadn't touched off an eruption. He couldn't grasp just how many had died during the bombardment. The earlier thoughts of his family gone, he now wondered what would happen to him and his friends. Jason couldn't remember another time in his life when he was this scared.

He studied a massive plume of smoke rising from the west, marking the destruction of the sprawling naval fuel storage facilities at Pearl Harbor. This was by far the greatest fire on the island. More smoke columns marked the graves of Honolulu's international airport and port facilities, even as more green flashes continued to impact the island city.

"Nineteen minutes." Rick yelled out, checking his commemorative Star Trek watch.

"What." Jason asked dumbfounded.

"They destroyed Honolulu in nineteen minutes, I checked it just before the first 'phaser' shot." Rick responded, slapping the water in frustration.

"Look it's moving away." Eddie pointed at the blade-shaped vessel. Jason watched it closely for several moments before he could see that it really did seem as if it were getting smaller as it traveled on a south-west course. No new 'phaser' bolts, or whatever the projectiles were called, were falling upon Honolulu or its environs anymore.

"I think we're safe guys." Rick said, as he treaded water on top of an oncoming wave.

Jason looked at the raging funeral pyre that had once been Hawaii's capital in front of them. "Are we?"


	6. Brakatak

20,000 meters over Kazan, Russian Federation, Badger Flight, at the edge of space

The Senior Lieutenant had been climbing his MiG 31 Foxhound into the sky for over forty minutes. Now at over fifty miles above the Earth, the sky went from blue to night black as his instruments indicated that his D30-F6 turbofans were starting to starve for oxygen. He felt a sense of pride that his older fighter was one of the few jets on Earth that could achieve such altitude.

He watched as his flight leader leveled off before he released his HOTOS control stick and followed his leader around the curve of the planet below. Both planes led a formation of twenty-two aging fighters at a speed of mach 3, a speed wholly insufficient for space combat velocities, he feared, but it was all his fighter could put out.

His Weapon Service Operator indicated over the comm that what spotty radar coverage they had was picking up a large target on their eleven o'clock high. The Senior Lieutenant turned his fighter in the direction indicated by his WSO. The Flight Leader had already banked his plane in the same direction and now the entire flight followed their lead. Radar coverage was so unpredictable, due to the amount of electronic warfare jamming the aliens put out, that he was relieved when he instantly saw the target package moving astern of their attack.

The massive, diamond-shaped spaceship was painted gray with red markings along its sides and top decks. A large, bulky superstructure marked what Air Force Intelligence believed was its command and control section, and their aiming point. As he shortened the distance between himself and the target he noted with surprise that the upper-decks of the alien craft were sliding open. The sun caught flashes of light as smaller, X-shaped craft rose from a type of an unseen hanger inside the middle of the alien warship.

25,000 meters over Kazan, Clone Flight Squad Seven, Acclamator II-class SD _Fool_

Oddball waited until his entire flight of ten ARC-170s cleared the lip of the hanger bay before pushing his controls forward and leading his flight towards the earth fighters closing with his starship. The HUD in his helmet indicated the _Fool_ was reengaging her deflector shields in preparation for the anticipated attack. The HUD also fed him information on the type of atmospheric airspeeders the Earthlings were using and what kind of weapon systems they likely employed, mostly air-to air missiles if Oddball believed the indicator icons in his HUD. Cody grinned like a hungry acklay when he noticed the limited capabilities of the primitive projectiles. This would be a blue-milk run, he told himself.

His eyelid flickered on one of the indicator symbols in his HUD and he was instantly addressing his entire flight as well as his co-pilot and the gunner in his own fighter. "Missile defense _vode, _we're not going to reach them before they get that first shot off; after that we'll be on top of them and they should be easy game. Remember, stick with your wingman and call out your targets. Oddball, out." His eyelids flicked at the symbol again and his commo switched to crew only. The lifesign readings of the two clones he had been flying with since the Battle of Coruscant perked up. "Alright boys, time for our first kill of the day."

He clicked his forward mounted medium laser cannons to hot and pushed the starship into an attack speed of 38,000 kilometers an hour. The Earth's airspeeders suddenly grew large in his aiming reticule.

Badger Flight

The enemy fighters were closing fast at speeds his own plane could only dream of. He wondered what kind of weapons they carried, and more importantly what those alien guns were going to do to his own fighter. His mind came back to the mission at hand as the WSO's voice in his ear indicated weapon's safeties were off, just a heartbeat later his Flight Leader started yelling in the other ear for everyone to engage the main target.

He wasn't the first to fire, but he wasn't the last. He gripped the HOTAS and grinded his thumb into the missile trigger button, firing four AA-X-13 Arrow missiles at the enemy carrier. "Fox Four!" he screamed. His WSO echoed in the rear of the cockpit.

He had no time to watch the missiles as the enemy fighters were suddenly on top of them. He broke as hard left as he could, but his aircraft maneuvered slowly as his ailerons and flaps tried in desperation for atmosphere to grip onto. Suddenly, flashes of red light shot through his formation.

Clone Flight Squad Seven

The enemy flight leader fired off a small air-to-air missile at him from almost point blank range. Oddball dipped his craft down and the weapon shot over his craft and into the empty void of space. His co-pilot engaged the laser canon and Oddball watched as the impacts stitched up the enemy airspeeder from nose to tail. The doomed airspeeder slipped behind his ARC-170 and exploded somewhere far beneath him.

At his speed the Russian attackers should have been able to turn inside of his craft with ease but they seemed to be having difficulties with their controls at this altitude. Oddball felt no sympathy for them; they were the enemy. As he came about on the rear of the remaining attackers he caught a glimpse of an enemy airspeeder that his wingman had taken out. The tiny enemy pilot was blown out of the craft, and for a second Oddball saw that the being was wearing a flight helmet with mask and breathing tubes similar to own. He watched on his FOD radar as the man fell like a meteor towards the Earth below. A parachute never opened.

Oddball turned his attention back to the few remaining airspeeders left in the disjointed attack and picked his next target.

Badger Flight

Screams were all that filled his commo now. He wasn't sure if they belonged to his flight mates or his own. He had no idea how many g he was pulling as he put his Foxhound on its back and pulled a negative g dive for the deck below. The Earth filled his cockpit screen and it took every ounce of energy to turn his head and catch a glimpse of the enemy mothership they had attacked.

It was at that moment that all of the missiles they had fired during the engagement impacted the enemy ship. Large green circles appeared wherever an Arrow made contact. There were several small, ineffectual explosions and then nothing. The starship seemed to have a force field like in some American Sci-Fi movie. Did their fighters have them too, he wondered, though it didn't really matter now; he had no idea whether any of his flight had even survived the battle

Suddenly red flashes of laser fire raced ahead of his craft. "Yuri check six!" he screamed, but got no answer. He pulled his stick back and relieved some of the force on his body. He turned his head and saw that his WSO had passed out from the g-force they had been pulling. It was the sight of the two X-shaped fighters on his tail that would haunt the last two seconds of his life.

Clone Flight Squad Seven

Oddball watched as his co-pilot slammed rounds into the engines of the Russian airspeeder, as he fought the starfighter's controls to slow down his own craft in an attempt not to overfly his target. The airspeeder ahead of him erupted in a fireball and all three of the clones held their breath as debris peppered his ARC-170s shielding.

Oddball leveled off his starfighter as his wingman's craft came along side of them. His last kill had been the last surviving member of the Earth attack squadron, and he watched on his subspace radar for a minute as its remains impacted with the ground at three times the speed of sound. The fighter's sensors also indicated that he hadn't lost a single man in the attack.

He keyed his commo, "CFS-7 returning to base."

"Copy that CFS-7." The _Fool_'s Flight Control responded. "Good shooting, by the way."

"Thanks _Fool_, any damage in the attack?" He wondered what kind of reception his pilots would get on their return.

"Nothing much. The shields held during the attack: just some scratches on the paint job is all."

Oddball smiled as he led his flight home. "Yes, that's all these Earthlings seem able to do...scratch."

**Kuati Research Sector, Block Besh Six, Culter City, Imperial Mars**

As Brakatak's three eyes gingerly opened into slits he struggled against his mind's grogginess as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His mouth was full of an odd, viscous fluid. His taste buds told him the bitter fluid he was encased in wasn't the sickly-sweet taste of bacta. His hands could feel that he was inside of some type of plastoid tank with a re-breather attached to his nose and mouth.

He tried to remember how he had gotten into this disconcerting situation. He remembered a sandstorm and being attacked on the street by a couple of pirate scum. His first panicked thought was that he had been abducted by slavers or the Black Sun, but then he remembered his secretive search for his own herd that had led him to investigate the cloners of Culter City. Evidently he had stuck his snout into somewhere it wasn't wanted and that had drawn the wrong kind of attention.

His eyes finally adjusted to the viscous substance surrounding him. That, coupled with the meager light coming from somewhere near his feet, allowed him to see more clearly. He pressed his face up against the plastoid and peered left and right. His prison was just one in a row of tanks that created an aisle. As he was exploring the room with his eyes he noticed that another being was stirring inside a tank on the other side of the aisle. Brakatak couldn't be sure, but he had a suspicion that the other being had a distinct Ishi Tib feature to him. It had to be Frip, he assured himself. He looked up and down the row of containers for help and noticed that they seemed to be the only occupants.

Dull thumps reached his ears and he turned his attention back to Frip. His fishy friend was propped up against the far side of his tank and was stomping on the plastoid wall in an attempt to free himself. The big Gran tried to prop himself up in the same manner but found that his size was too great for the feat. He started lazily punching and elbowing the sides of the tank until he had tested the plastoid container enough to give the sides a good solid jab. The thick liquid slowed his pulled punches and jabs. At first nothing happened, except Frip seemed to slacken his attempts in order to see if Brakatak was having any success. Brakatak wound up and smashed his fist into it once again, followed by a blow from his other hand as hard as he could throw it. On the fifth attempt a small fracture crept along the face of the tank.

Brakatak grinned as he removed the re-breather for more freedom of movement. The liquid filled his nose threatening to choke his airways. He concentrated his strength and slammed his shoulder into the spot where the crack was forming. Instead of increasing the size of the crack his momentum tipped his container forward. Before the Gran could restore its balance it fell forward and smashed upon the duracrete floor of the facility. Plastoid and the fluid he was immersed in splashed everywhere and slopped against the bottom of Frip's pod in front of him. The big Gran stretched out his arms in newly won freedom as the chill of the darkly-lit room caused goose-bumps to rise underneath his wet clothing. Brakatak wiped off the remains of the container and stood on his feet before his friend.

Frip swam around inside his own tank in a show of joy and expectancy. Brakatak was all smiles, waving goodbye as he pretended to leave without rescuing his friend. Frip sent him a hand gesture that was usually reserved for one's enemies. Brakatak laughed to himself as he located the release valve on Frip's tank.

Just as his hand gripped the release valve for Frip's tank someone struck him in the ribs from his right: at the same time someone big and heavy hit him in the legs from the left. His body cartwheeled in the air before slamming hard into the deck. Dazed, he tried to stand, but something metallic hit him in the flank and dropped him to the floor again. He realized he had broken off the valve with his hand as he watched Frip emerge dripping wet from his tank to assault his attackers. The Ishi-Tib lurched at the two attackers. With movement too fast to track they dispatched Frip and tossed him into a heap next to Brakatak. It was a hard blow but the little Ishi-Tib was alright. A moment later two MagnaGuards careened at them out of the dark, like a couple of nightmares from the Clone Wars.

"Stop." A voice commanded from behind the droids and they instantly obeyed, just centimeters from tearing into Brakatak's unprotected face. Both MagnaGuards pulled themselves erect and ignited purple electrostaffs to keep Brakatak and Frip under guard.

"Are you alright?" Three beings came out of the darkness as overhead lights flickered on above them. Brakatak tried to recognize the species of the identical, lab coat-wearing beings.

"We could be better." Brakatak answered for himself and Frip. One of the beings reached under the Gran's arm and helped him to his feet. He gestured at the two MagnaGuards. "These Stick Tinnies work for you?"

The strange male just offered him a weak smile, "Wait here." He returned to the other two scientists, where they formed a huddle and tried to keep their voices low. It wasn't any use as Brakatak knew they were discussing what to do to Frip and himself. He kept hearing the words 'evidence' and 'dispose' rise above the rest of their murmurs, the words he overheard were concerning.

"Khommites." Frip whispered as he came to his feet next to him. The MagnaGuards never relaxed for an instant; Brakatak could feel the heat coming off of their weapons. "Cloners." Frip explained. Brakatak tried to remember what he knew of them and came up with very little. They weren't as good at cloning as Kaminoans, but they had worked for the Old Republic during the Clone War, hadn't they?

The three cloners broke up their conference and walked back to the two captives. The same one who had helped Brakatak to his feet spoke for the group. "We're not going to kill you if that's what you're afraid of," he explained. "Instead you're going to be handed back to the Imperials."

"We're free beings. The Imperials will just turn around and set us loose." Brakatak warned. "We'll tell them you've got some highly illegal MagnaGuards in your employment."

The Krommite snickered, "Why would they believe a Black Sun Vigo?" he pointed at the Gran's bare arm.

"What are you talking about..." Brakatak's voice trailed off as he noticed the tattoos that adorned the skin of Frip's and his own arms. In the scuffle and the darkness they hadn't had time to notice a large Black Sun marking that stretched from his wrist to his shoulder. They must have put it on him while he had been unconscious. He'd be lucky if the Imperials didn't shoot him on sight, let alone allow him to explain himself.

"Herd of Brakatak's you have?" Frip broke in, "They not be here, you kill them?"

"We'd never do anything so deplorable," The Khommite gasped, "We're some of the top cloning researchers in the Empire. We got kesseled in a top-level business deal that someone in the government quickly made illegal. We're just tying up loose cables."

"And my herd was one of those loose cables?"

"You never heard? Well I guess you wouldn't have with our associates abducting you on the street like they did. A large Black Sun gang, entirely made up of Gran males, was captured a month ago and sent to a penal labor camp. Since the Black Sun was mostly wiped out on the _Abandoned Hope_ there wasn't anybody to deny it." Brakatak sighed as the impact of the words hit him. His old herd was alive, but in prison.

"We frozen month now?" Frip asked.

"Not frozen; you've been in cloning cylinders for about a month and a half now."

Brakatak looked up and down the rows of machines and vats around him. He noted that most of them seemed to be full of plant seeds and animal fetuses of some sort. "You have no idea how expensive that cylinder was that you broke. For that alone we would happily hand you over to the authorities. Now if you'll follow us." The MagnaGuards took up flanking positions on the two prisoners and nudged them forward with their electrostaffs.

The group made its way out of the cloning facility and out into a loading dock area at the rear of the industrial complex. Brakatak noticed the name Arkanian Microtechnologies on the sides of the Ferrocrete walls and stenciled of the side of the large hovertruck parked in front of them. Two of the Khommites got into the cab of the vehicle, while the rest of them piled into its open rear bed. The two MagnagGuards wrapped themselves in some type of cloak that they carried, making them indistinguishable from any other droid on the streets of Culter City. Unfortunately for the two prisoners, the enforcer droids never dropped their guard for an instant.

The hovertruck moved onto the main fairways leading out of the city. Brakatak was noticing that traffic was much lighter than he remembered, here on the ground and in the skyways above the city. There was a complete lack of Star Destroyers and other military hardware in the skies above.

He leaned forward and addressed the Khommite riding along with them. "Where did the Navy go, Cloneboy?" he pointed up into the evening sky.

The Khommite just shrugged his shoulders. "Gone to war with another planet and took the whole laser-brained Martian Army with it. They didn't even want any new clones, just like they didn't want any of our cloned agricultural workers." Brakatak was about to ask about that, but the Khommite rambled out the answer. "We had the perfect stock, too. Nobody was going to miss a herd of Gran. They'd just be one more species that missed the 'Big Jump', like Wookies or Hutts. But the government wasn't punching up that coordinate. No, they said they could get workers a lot cheaper somewhere else, or that it would take too long to clone them, or some other poodoo excuse and then declared the cloning of beings illegal. Sure they gave us a fat contract to clone earth seeds for crops and some domestic animals, but what were we supposed to do with all you Gran we had? We're not Black Sun murderers, just cloners."

"Without a lick of business sense amongst you." Brakatak observed.

"That's true; everyone in town is trying to hire managers and secretaries. If only the fleet had brought some along on the 'big jump' here." The Khommite complained "All the bigger companies are snatching up all of the ex-slaves as office workers."

"Why didn't you just hire the Gran?"

"Someone would have talked about the kidnapping. So we sliced some false prison orders for the whole herd. The guards at the prison camps mostly don't ask too many questions, or they're droids." The hovertruck left the limits of the city and cruised out into the frigid red plains of Mars. Brakatak thought it was a bit warmer than he last remembered, but not by much.

The hovertruck cruised along the edge of a bluff and Frip pointed at the enormous sprawl of a camp below them. Red pourstone shelters stretched out as far as the eye could see, only stopping when they reached a distant electrified death fence. Five civil-industrial I-C2 construction droids were busy erecting twin turbolaser turrets and guard towers around the perimeter of the camp. Brakatak thought whoever had built this camp was expecting a lot of beings to fill it, maybe even more than had come along with the so-called _Tarkin's Fist_. It had to be the size of several of the slave camps on Despayre put together.

Brakatak's heart leaped as he noticed familiar three-eyed beings working amongst the construction gangs as the hovertruck neared the massive gate complex of the camp. He hardly noticed the name of the place was Earth Concentration Camp 1138, spelled out in aurabesh and alternate basic above the gate.

"We speak at guards. Guards arrest you." Frip warned as the truck slowed.

"Oh, no doubt." The Khommite chuckled, "We were prepared for that as well." The scientist motioned to the MagnaGuards, and before he could blink Brakatak felt the stun of their electrostaffs in his side. As he passed into unconsciousness he felt the hovertruck come to a stop.


	7. Roblin

Target East, Lesser Continental Mass, Strangle-7 Bombardment

The seven Clone War veteran warships were spread out along their siege bombardment line high above the target package with the strange name of Los Angeles. Someone had told the crews of the huge _Venator_ Star Destroyers that the name meant The Angels, and there was scuttlebutt that the inhabitants may have been colonists or refugees from the moons of lego. But it had been just a rumor and so the crews hadn't hesitated in opening fire on the metropolis anyways.

Malibu with its million Amero mansions burned; sports cars and limousines were tossed about like marbles from the hand of a child, their explosions adding to the carnage around them. More green bolts from the heavens slammed down in the San Fernando Valley, smashing every street, road, and alley leading into the city. One of the _Venators_, the _Battle of Honoghr, _razed the 210 freeway from Glendale to San Bernardino, and because of its efforts nothing came into the city from the foothills of the Sierras to the north. The _Maul _opened up with her heavy turbolaser batteries on anything that moved in Riverside County. She brought city after city to their knees before finally wiping them off the map completely. Three more of the destroyers worked their way in from the south starting at Newport Beach in Orange County. They crushed the 405 and 15 interstates even as the roads were choked full of refugees and evaporated the water in Lake Elsinore with their superheated rounds of plasma and laser energy.

Cities with names like Corona and Glendora were shattered. But others, like Anaheim, Santa Monica, Torrence, or even Chino Hills hadn't received a single plasma-bolt from the tormentors above. What were they being saved for, their inhabitants wondered as they looted and fought for as many supplies as they could secure for whatever lay ahead. Gunfire rang across these neighborhoods as control was wrested from the gangs by the army troops slowly making their way into the suburbs and digging in for the defense of this western city.

In the impact areas being wracked by turbolaser fire, hidden armored vehicles waited. Covered in the camouflage of debris and rubble, Leopard III tanks and Stryker II armored fighting vehicles made their way forward between salvos from the great ships above. They were determined to keep what was rightfully theirs, as their decks were crowded with soldiers and supplies moving to the front. Staying off cratered roads and crushing their way through the rubble of home after home they crept into the city. Shell-shocked survivors of the bombardment soon followed the soldiers in the hopes of escaping the hell of miles-wide impact zones that their cities had become.

In the skies above, helicopters darted into the city, dodging left and right as one or another would burst when alien fire found it. Dozens of burning, wreckage-filled pyres across the city were all the burial their crews would ever receive, yet still the American soldiers came. Large C-130s raced over the city and through the barrage, dropping supplies and thousands of fresh paratroopers into the build-up before racing through the bombardment again. The destruction of two of the craft was barely noticed amid the pain and suffering the city was feeling.

At the beaches the Army dug in. They watched as any large ship drew the attention from the aliens above and was quickly sent to the bottom. Yet small craft continued to make their way from ports to the south and north, bringing in more men and supplies. Thousands of anti-aircraft guns poked their muzzles out from backyards, rooftops, and parks across the city of angels. At the same time, state-of-the-art fighters patrolled over the Los Angeles basin, waiting to engage the first wave of the expected alien invasion.

Los Angeles was going to be revenge for the death the aliens had caused, and each Earth soldier was determined to make them pay in full.

**_Mynock_ Flight, 38,000 meters above Target East**

Captain Timus Roblin was wondering if he made the wrong choice as he adjusted the atmospheric controls for the inside of his white TIE/In starfighter for the hundredth time on his mission. He had been flying escort duty for the invasion fleet for nine hours and was starting to smell pretty ripe inside his black flight suit. He had long ago stopped trying to count how many starships made up the invasion force. They looked as if they were a menacing cloud of Bilbringii Murder Bees whenever he took his flight to the outer perimeter of the imperial swarm.

Three weeks ago his Wing Commander aboard the _Quill_ had given him the chance to train in the new TIE/Interceptors coming off the line from factories on Mars. Roblin had wanted to jump at the chance but the only problem, Commander Vertitas had explained, was that the training might coincide with the upcoming invasion of the Earth, which itself promised to be a target-rich environment for TIE pilots. So it was either being the lead flight in the attack and the tip of the Imperial Spear, or get to fly the hottest new fighters this galaxy had ever seen and miss out on the big show. When it came down to it, Roblin knew which opportunity he couldn't pass up.

And so he found himself leading _Mynock_ Flight in their older fighters in lazy circles around the herds of LAATs, Lambdas, and hundreds of other landing craft that waited for the attack signals to be broadcast. Roblin checked his flight computer and subspace radar to make sure each of the ten fighters in his squadron were maintaining their pyramid-gamma formation as they patrolled a line of slow bulky Y-85 _Titan_ dropships leading a line of their smaller cousins, the _Theta_-class AT-AT barges. Roblin had seen a report that some of the barges were carrying AT-AT swimmers in the first wave. He'd only been interested because he'd never seen the strange Imperial walkers in action before.

Roblin silently cursed his luck when _Mynock_ Flight cleared a line of CR30 troop carriers and approached the Imperial-class Star Destroyer _Flood, _currently engaged in orbital bombardment operations. He saw another squadron flying fighter cover above the entire mass of warships, and with an envious eye noticed the sleek killer features of their snubnose fighters. _Akul_ Flight had been chosen instead to train in the first of the Interceptors, and Roblin's only concession to his jealousy was that those _Akul_ pukes could watch from their lofty perch as his _Mynock_ flyboys cleaned up on Earth kills.

He smiled a predatory grin, pushed his stick forward, and took his flight to a lower orbit. His sensors instantly showed a rise in skin temperature as his fighter skimmed the top of the atmosphere.

He toggled his S-c3.8 multi-range TAG between IR and VSI mode and watched thousands of Earth airspeeders on guard below him. His mouth actually watered at the easy pickings he imagined _Mynock_ Squadron taking from the Earthlings beneath him. Several hundred of them lumbered over Target East and right at the bottom of his planned entry vector.

The only problem he could see was slowing down enough from the reentry to dogfight the enemy airspeeders at their own pace. The fleet only had one small squadron of Imperial Escort Airspeeders off of the Venator SD _Transform_, and they had been assigned to Target West. He had laughed when he read Naval Intelligence's evaluations of the Earth's airspeeders that he would have to go up against. Afterburners and turbofan engines, radar-absorbing material and fixed wing airspeeders that could only hope to do mach 4 at the most would be bantha fodder for his boys. He sneered with the arrogance of being one of the top aces in the fleet when he thought of the so-called 'helicopters' the Earth fielded. The things actually had rotary blades like the crop dusting chopters back home on Corellia. If his TIEs looked at them funny they'd probably go down in flames.

"Hey Bloodstripe, any word on when we're going to kick this thing off?" his panalman commed him from his port side. "I'm as bored as a Hutt's basement rancor."

"You'll be the first one I tell Striker. I'm as antsy as you are." Roblin informed First Lieutenant August, his XO of _Mynock_ Squadron.

"Boss, they need to get this show on the road. I just watched two heavy MAATs collide with each other after one of their pilots decided to take a nap at the stick."

"Any damage?" Roblin wondered aloud.

"Naw, they just bumped each other. Probably scared the poodoo out of the stormies aboard though." August observed. "Can you imagine what it's like aboard those LAAT/i though? They don't have the atmospherics like the newer carriers."

"Those troopers are going to be worthless when they hit the dirt, especially if Fleet Ops doesn't get this show on the road soon." As if his words were prophecy, the Fleet Channel lit up on his sub-space radio.

"Attention all commands!" An official voice cut across all channels, "All squadrons move to entry points. Bombardment will cease in ten minutes. TIE Squadrons are a go in mark nine minutes." A counter on his flight computer instantly began counting down as he whipped _Mynock_ Squadron around and back to their assigned jump-off point. More instructions issued forth from the comm but most of those were for the vectoring of transports and Star Destroyers cruising above him.

"Weapon safeties off." He ordered his flight. His sensors told him twenty-seven squadrons of TIE/In starfighters were forming up behind his own formation. Overkill, he arrogantly thought, even though the Earth airspeeders in the target area outnumbered them by five to one. Several TIE/WACs in the fleet stepped up their electronic jamming of the enemy airspeeder's radars and communications. By the sporadic flying the earthlings started to demonstrate as he watched Roblin figured the the EA jamming was working.

At eight minutes the f3-2 flight avionics system blinked out for a second. The TIE captain quickly checked the power levels of his twin ion engines and saw that his targeting computer was registering an EW attack on his formation. TIE/WACs dived towards the planet below to counter whatever primitive jamming technology the enemy was throwing at him. Within the next two heartbeats he registered his TIE was still at 100 percent combat effectiveness and pushed his stick forward. Without checking his instruments he imagined the hundreds of craft following his attack through the upper atmosphere as the turrets from the escorting Star Destroyers ceased their bombardment.

Below Roblin lay a beautiful ocean that stretched as far as his eye could see. White caps raced east to collide with a brown and green shoreline marred with the smoke of thousands of fires. His back pressed into his crash webbing as he dropped ten thousand meters and leveled off in a 3g turn. His TIE squadron quickly out paced the transports that were following his formation.

Airspeeders the shape of Ithorian Razor Sharks raced out of the city ahead to intercept his own fighters. Their surprisingly quick atmospheric speeds seemed to be their only advantage. He could only guess at their numbers as his targeting computer was still tallying them. He switched it quickly to close combat mode so that it would only track targets marked by his own HUD.

To Roblin the primitive airspeeders were wasteful and poorly designed. He doubted most of the oncoming craft could even make it past the speed of sound without the aide of afterburners, and had no doubt they weren't capable of ever leaving the atmosphere.

"_Mynock_, Attack Formation Echo-5." He commanded. The nine fighters behind him slid into the attack position a heartbeat later. "Lock cannons in attack position."

"All TIE squadrons, break and engage at will." A TIE/WAC commanded from high above. The TIE formation broke into their own attack patterns as they spread across in a line racing towards the enemy airspeeders.

Roblin's targeting computer identified several types of craft coming at him, from F-35 Lightning IIs and Harrier IIIs, to older F-22 Raptors and a sprinkling of F-18 Super Hornets. The airspeeders were the first to open fire. Missiles flew from their wings in the hope that they could out distance the TIEs plasma bolts. Roblin opened fire with his twin mounted chin cannons along with dozens of other imperial fighters. Green bolts blasted outwards to intercept the incoming attack. Several of the primitive missiles exploded between the two opposing forces as the attack pressed in.

"Just a bunch of bangers. Striker, you picking up any boomers?"

"Negative, Bloodstripe. No boomers." Striker responded. Roblin's scanners showed the absence of proton torpedoes amongst the primitive concussion missiles being hurled unguided at his formation.

Roblin and Striker stuck together as they ducked a pair of AIM-120 AMRAAMs. His neck threatened whiplash as he swiveled it back and forth, searching for more incoming projectiles. The distance between the two forces ebbed away as the airspeeders opened up with their IRIS-T and AIM-9 Sidewinders. Unfortunately for the earthlings, they were also now well in the atmospheric range of the TIE's cannons.

Roblin put his fighter into a howling bank to the left after a flight of F-35s in time to witness a TIE from _Gundark_ Squadron take a missile straight in the cockpit viewport. The pilot probably froze at the stick when he saw the weapon bearing in, Roblin figured, as he watched the twin panels break apart. His HUD followed the enemy flight of five airspeeders and he noted Striker had the superior position for the attack.

"Striker, you got lead." Roblin grunted over the squadron channel as his TIE's inertial dampers fought the g-forces he was pulling to get his craft in attack position. Roblin was still lining up his shot when Striker's cannons blew apart three of the airspeeders. The _Mynock_ Flight Leader had a second for a quick shot on one of the survivors before he and Striker overflew the airspeeders. His targeting computer registered a miss but before they could turn and renew the attack, two TIEs from _Jocorro_ Squadron finished off the earthlings.

Roblin scanned for his next target.

"Bloodstripe, two bloodsuckers at ten o'clock low." Stiker piped across the commo.

Roblin banked his craft to the left and picked out the two Harrier IIIs moving in on a pair of TIEs from behind. "Oh, no you don't." Bloodstripe growled at the pair. "I got Left." he informed Striker.

"Roger, Roger."

His thumb pressed in on the firing stub and green blasts tore into the cockpit area of his target airspeeder. The gray craft went into a spin and lurched towards the ocean below. Before Roblin could switch targets Striker claimed his fourth kill by blowing the other airspeeder's wing off. The cockpit exploded and the two TIE pilots watched as the Earthling ejected from his stricken craft. A parachute emerged from the pilot's seat and he was soon drifting towards the water below. Roblin noted several smaller boats on the ocean and wished the fellow pilot luck, as he spun around to look for more kills.

"Zap and Wampa need some help." Striker announced.

Roblin looked at his flight computer for his squadron-mates' position and quickly picked them out of the hundreds of fighter craft in the sky. The two TIEs ducked and weaved through several dogfights marked by green blaster bolts and red tracer rounds, followed by the stray air-to-air missile or the contrails left by the high-speeed maneuvers of both sides. It was clear that the TIEs, though heavily outnumbered, were having their way with the defending airspeeders.

He spotted Zap and Wampa engaged with ten of the slightly better F-35s. The two TIEs, with their maneuverability and ion vectoring jets, could get out of the way whenever one of the airspeeders engaged with either missile or guns. But going at higher speeds allowed the enemy airspeeders to turn inside of whatever banking turns the pair of TIEs could pull whenever one would get on the tail of one of the earthlings. What resulted was a big furball of spinning fighters, with neither side gaining the upper hand.

Roblin thought of over-engaging his inertial dampeners, which would allow him to maneuver in any direction and dozens of Gs, but the thought of bleeding that much speed in this type of fight made him sweat in the coolness of his flight suit. Instead he decided on a much more straight-forward approach.

"Time to plow the field, Striker. You take high. I'll take low."

"Copy that Bloodstripe, going in." Striker acknowledged.

Roblin's gloved thumb grinded the firing stub as he followed his own blasts into the largest formation of enemy craft. Two of them erupted in cataclysmic explosions that blew them from the sky. A flash of fire above him told him Striker was marking down another kill as well. The two fighters passed through the dogfight and banked right in formation three kilometers away. Four enemy craft had disappeared from the fight thanks to them.

"Box them in and let's see if our boys can get some kills." The _Mynock_ Flight Leader ordered.

"Roger, roger." August responded.

With all of the enemy airspeeders focused on the two TIEs that had just chewed them up, their attention slipped from the two junior TIE pilots who had reformed to the rear of the earthlings and began to smash their bolts into the airspeeders from behind. With their twin ion engines whining from their high speeds Zap and Wampa shredded the F-35 formation. In the space of a few seconds three more smoke plumes reached up from the ocean, marking their kills. The three remaining fighters fled in separate directions.

Roblin was surprised by the Earthling's lack of teamwork, but then remembered the amount of signal jamming that was being aimed at them from the TIE/WACs still in orbit above. He watched dozens of dogfights taking place across the sky. Outclassed airspeeders would plunge into the TIE formations in ones or twos without any coordination with other flights. In several areas airspeeders never received warnings from their wingmen that they were under attack until it was too late, simply because their primitive radios had been knocked out. It was like shooting Naboo Sirenian in a container, Roblin thought.

A sidewinder flashed past his cockpit, bringing his mind back to the battle. Something as simple as a wandering thought could get a pilot blasted down, he reminded himself. He climbed for altitude looking for his attacker. Striker followed in his wake. The weapon never had a lock on him, which is why none of his warning systems had alerted him to the danger.

He spotted the two attackers before Striker did. A F-18 Super Hornet had paired up with a surviving F-35 Lightning II and were some of the last few airspeeders attempting to block the way into Target East. Roblin flipped his TIE onto its back and dove towards the two doomed craft. He noted with pleasure that both airspeeders had already expended their missiles, so at a range their guns could only dream of matching, he ripped into the pair. His first blasts tore into one of the engines of the Lightning II, which immediately began spilling black smoke from its afterburners. His second round of cannon fire tore the Super Hornet to shreds and Roblin was rewarded with the sight of another ejecting Terran dangling from a parachute. Roblin looked around again for the crippled F-35 but his hunt came up empty.

"We'll mark that first pirate down as a probable, Sir." August chided him from the TIE on his wing.

"Good enough. At least he's out of the fight."

"Looks like their remaining airspeeders are bugging out to the north like a pack of startled nerf. Shall we pursue?" Striker asked.

"Let em' go. Form up." Roblin flipped comm channels. "_Mynock_ on me. Tie Squadrons, this is QI2-1-1, reform assault formations. _Mynock_ has the lead. Over." He watched as hundreds of TIEs reformed their squadrons behind him and smiled when he noted that all ten TIEs of _Mynock_ fell in to continue the air assault on Target East.

"Twelve." Striker stated. Evidently talking to someone else on their channel.

"Twelve what?" Roblin asked.

"Sir, you're never gonna believe it," Wampa cut across their squadron net. "We only lost twelve TIEs in that entire attack and Space Rescue is claiming nine successful pick-ups."

Roblin was impressed, though if Space Rescue brought you in and you were full of slugs, how successful a pick-up was it? He reminded himself to chew out Wampa for listening to the FleetOps channel during combat.

"The attack isn't over yet. Transports are going in now." Roblin indicated the thousands of craft that were just now passing unmolested beneath the TIEs providing fighter cover. He smiled at the completion of a successful mission. "First wave of Stormies should still have some light when they hit the beach."

At that moment the entire ocean front of Target East erupted in mushroom-shaped explosions as several TIE/sa bombers launched dozens of proton torpedoes at the enemy soldiers defending the primary invasion beaches. Effective enemy resistance to the landings dropped to nil as thousands of frontline earthling troopers and equipment were swallowed in the explosions.

His grin quickly disappeared when the sky over Target East sprouted and bloomed thousands of black explosions as the mysterious enemy flak batteries erupted to protect their city. Lines of red tracer slugs reached this way and that in vain hope to disrupt the oncoming invasion. Roblin noted hundreds of fires taking shape across the onrushing metropolis.

"_Mynock_ come to 20,000 meters, let's stay above this kriffin junk." Roblin ordered. As they climbed he watched the transports descending towards the beaches of Target East. Several LAATs engaged smaller aquatic vessels on the ocean below. More waves of TIE/sa bombers plastered the beaches ahead of the attack.

Roblin's sensors pinged alarms as new dangers appeared. His targeting computer indicated several surface-to-air missiles being launched in his direction. TIE/WACs above were on the ball and immediately started jamming the guidance systems of the new weapons. Roblin climbed for altitude as the local sun dipped into the ocean behind him. It really was going to be a long day he told himself.


	8. Yutu

Supermax, ADX Florence, Colorado, NAU, Earth

The customized _Nu_-assault shuttles had been flying in blackout conditions since dropping into the atmosphere. It was an hour after the local sundown in something the local Terrans had dubbed Mountain Standard Time. The three commando craft were flying eight meters off the ground at just under the speed of sound, completely invisible to enemy sensors in the area.

The Storm Commando Major in the first craft dropped the temperature in his Katarn IV scout armor as he prepared for the adrenaline rush of going into combat. The suits were based on the notorious clone commandos of the Clone War and specially modified by the legendary Commander Crix Madine to include stygian-triprismatic polymers covered in black reflec. The officer had heard that the things could stop a SPHA-T round but he'd never had the opportunity to test that theory. He could only hope that he had heard right.

A red light blinked on in the crew compartment and the three identically clad commandos behind him rose and made one last function check of their personal DC-17m ICWS. Each man signaled his readiness as the trio of stealthy craft silently emerged from the low-lying hills above the prison facility. The complex was under blackout conditions like much of the Earth. The Major wasn't sure if that was because of security measures or due to the destruction of the nearby city of Target Denver a few hours ago by the Star Destroyer _Purgatory__. _

The Major recieved image updates from the pilot transmitted directly to his HUD and marked the targets he wanted the _Nu'_s gunner to engage first. They crossed the open farmland in four seconds, then the red light in the crew compartment changed to blue. His night-vision viewers protected him from the glaring launch of the _Nu's_ small proton torpedoes, so he was able to watch as each of the _Nu_'s medium laser cannons took out the guard towers surrounding the prison. The viewers stayed opaque as the proton torpedoes slammed into the side of their primary infiltration targets: the prison's command building, main gate, guard barracks, and vehicle park.

His assault shuttle raced over the top of what looked like rows of electrified death fences topped with teeth wires and was the first to land next to the gaping hole in the side of the target. He led his four-male team down the drop ramp just as the second shuttle rapidly touched down next to his. His team immediately engaged the stunned occupants and guard forces still in the yard of the prison. Flashes of ion-pulse blasts, two per target, blinked through the darkness as the first two squads cleared the courtyard in five seconds flat, a dozen corpses falling to the ground behind them.

The Major checked his HUD for the location of the four locator signals before throwing a Merr-Sonn rapid-entry grenade through the gnarled opening in the building's facade. The resulting explosion was dampened by his bucket as his squad entered the prison at a sprint. The second team covered the landing of the third and then quickly followed the Major inside. Behind them flood lights turned the darkened courtyard into day for two seconds before the _Nu_'s gunners expertly took them out with their dual-light laser cannons.

The first two squads secured the entryway by blazing down several inmates that had escaped from their cells and were taking their own flights from whatever passed for justice on this backrocket world. The corridors of the building had been obscured in darkness and a ruptured steam pipe spewed a thick fog over the rubble of toppled walls. Several hand held slugthrowers fired in their direction and the Major targeted a small group of guards at the end of a hallway, one of which fired a larger shot-thrower from five meters away that peppered his armor with scattered metal flechettes of some sort. The Major raised his WESTAR-34 blaster pistol and squeezed the trigger three times. He checked his target finder, ignoring the trio of corpses as they hit the tiled floor.

The place was a maze. His eyelid flickered on his comm icon and he ordered Corporal Sabe from the third squad to enter the building. The only female member of their team, Sabe, came forward armed with a large LJ-50 concussion rifle. The Major just pointed in the direction he wanted to take and the junior NCO unloaded into the nearest wall. Her concussion blasts blew being-sized holes in the prison walls and the rest of the commandos took out guards and prisoners alike as they inched towards their target.

Several automatic slugthrowers engaged his squad and the Major identified uniformed personnel with night vision gear of their own mixed in with the surviving guards. He stepped into the hallway in front of his target, the only light coming from the flashes of the enemy slugthrowers and their impacts on his Katarn armor. He clicked on his Oppressor flamethrower and roasted the remaining guards and soldiers as they crouched behind whatever cover they could find. As several of the Earthling torches were quickly dispatched by his commandos he was suddenly glad he couldn't smell anything through his bucket. As it was, his helmet was helping to keep him alive in the smoke-filled environment.

Corporal Sabe approached the large metallic door the enemy troopers had been protecting. The Major nodded to her after checking his target locator and the young commando slapped thermal detonator tape around several thermal detonators and then backed away. She checked that the other commandos had taken cover before yelling over the comm "Blast in the hole!"

The blast tore the hinges from the wall, but before it hit the floor two of his squad threw flash-bangs into the cell. The pair of commandos were through the door in an instant as the Major provided cover. He heard two sets of double blasts before stepping though the doorway. The commandos stood over the bodies of a pair of heavily armed Terran troopers, but it was the four men in Imperial uniform cuffed together on the far side of the room that had his attention.

The fourth member of the team outfitted the prisoners with re-breathers before blasting their cuffs and handing them stormtrooper armor. The Major approached the four captives as they regained their wits. He was only vaguely aware from comm traffic that the _Nu _shuttles outside were engaging and destroying some sort of relief column of police vehicles on the road leading to the prison. It gave him a sense of sudden urgency in completing their mission. He picked up the senior male they had rescued, threw him over his shoulder, and flipped on the external speakers on his bucket.

"Where's the Ambassador?" he tersely asked the male as he made his way back to the courtyard for retrieval. The rest of his commandos brought the remainder of the rescued targets with them and covered their retreat.

The male was still groggy and just grunted a response. The Major just jostled him again, "Feirfek Trooper! Where's Phasma?"

"The Princess..." the male stumbled over his answer. Evidently he had been on the receiving end of some harsh earthling hospitality. "...The Ambassador, Phasma, didn't come with us. They kept her where the kriffing abos captured us."

He tossed the freed DiploServ stormtrooper down into a seat in the rear of the _Nu_ that was picking them all up as the other two provided cover. "Fierfek! We're bombarding San Francisco." The _Nu_ loading ramp shut with a thud and the shuttle rocketed for orbit.

**Flag Bridge, Imperial II-class SD _Quill_, 40,000 meters above Havana, NAU**

Captain Yutu, Director of Fleet Intelligence and Co-minister of the Bureau of Operations, approached the Fleet Admiral of the Maw Defense Fleet with a sense of trepidation. Fleet Admiral Yos stood with his back to Yutu amongst a trio of holoprojectors feeding him information on the attacks going on across the enemy planet beneath them. The bridge was crowded with dozens of technicians and crewmen working diligently at their stations. A gray-uniformed naval steward refreshed the Fleet Admiral's cup of caf as Yutu cleared his throat to talk.

It was no great secret that Yutu had fallen out of favor with the Fleet Admiral ever since the abduction of his only daughter by the nefarious Earthling scum. Yutu had personally guaranteed the youngling ambassador's safety while planet-side, but who would have guessed the inhabitants would have snatched her for use as some sort of human-shield. The Intelligence Chief had erroneously and arrogantly assumed that the cost of retribution had to outweigh any gain they could have accomplished in a kidnapping.

But he finally had his redemption in his possession "Fleet Admiral, We have located the Ambassador." The Commander of _Tarkin's Fist_ spun around and squared off towards the Intelligence Chief. He sported an expression of pride and joy, that hadn't been aimed at Yutu since Phasma's kidnapping.

"Sweet Queen Quinella! She's alive?" The Admiral shouted.

"That information isn't available to us at this moment, Sir." Yutu said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. He sensed his peer, Captain Dual, the Operations Chief, come up along side him. "We have a pretty good idea where the abos are hiding her though."

The Fleet Admiral looked at the two officers and Yutu could tell he was making the connection. "One of your commando teams dig up some hard data on her abductors?" he asked slowly and with a subtle warning in his tone that failure in this matter wouldn't be tolerated.

"Storm Commando Grek-8 raided the Earth prison where we were tracking the locators on the Ambassador's guards." Dual said. "The four men were retrieved and are in route to the _Quill's_ MedBay. Phasma was not with them."

Yutu continued the report, "Sir, initial questioning by the officer in charge of the commandos states that your daughter was never moved with the guard force. They have reported that they last saw her and one other guard force member eight days ago at her original abduction site."

"Why aren't we picking up this other guard's locator?" Yos reasonably inquired.

"The last man was her guard force commander, and as such he had no locator surgically embedded in his skin. The males we rescued claimed the other members of her guard force and her personal shuttle crew were killed when the Earthlings abducted her." Yutu explained.

"So where is she now?" It was clear from the dark tone in the Fleet Admiral's voice that the old man was stressed by the situation. Yutu pulled out his datapad and moved it towards one of the Admiral's larger HoloProjectors. Instantly, the HoloImage there changed from a three dimensional image of the battle raging over Target West to one of a large port city. Several officers leaned in to get a better look at the real time image.

"That's Target San Francisco." Captain Nake, commander of the _Quill_, observed. "It's seen better days, at least since we sent the Ambassador there." Several large fires burned on the southern banks of the harbor and the port facilities had been given a thorough once over by turbolasers.

"That is correct, Captain," Dual interceded, "Target San Francisco was the _besh_ target of the _Kuat's Vision_. It was given a twenty minute orbital barrage seven hours ago by the Kuati destroyer that is now finishing its target mission package over Target Vancouver, to the north."

"This island in the middle of the harbor is of particular interest." Yutu pushed an icon and the image switched to an intimidating fortress sitting just offshore. Several anti-airspeeder batteries and shore defenses were visible, as well as a considerable amount of obviously new construction and repair of the facilities located there. "These defenses have all been put into place over the course of the last week. My own sources and orbital holopics have confirmed that this island was up until that time a historical tourist park of some sort and served no military purpose."

"If this is normal build-up for the defense of this city then the location of this island would be an excellent location for an unsinkable artillery base." Nake observed.

"We haven't located any other build-up of forces in this particular city, and what surviving NAU forces we have detected still seem to be heading for staging areas in what is called the Central Valley of Upper-California. Probably for use against our forces in Target East." Yutu explained.

"As per Moff Seco's and your own orders, Sir," Dual added, "We have made it quite obvious where we were going to land on the lesser continental mass."

"How long will it take to move the _Quill_ over this San Francisco?" Yos asked Nake.

"Only a few minutes, ten at the most." Nake replied.

"Make it so. Our bombardment of Target Havana is almost complete anyhow." Yos turned to Dual. "Recall the _Kuat's Vision_, and have her resume her attack on the southern shore of this San Francisco. We will bombard the northern parts of the harbor but under no circumstances is either ship to engage this island. Understood?" The firmness in his voice ensured that his orders would be followed.

"Aye, aye." Dual and Nake responded in unison. Dual gave Yutu a sympathetic look before turning to an aide and issuing the orders to the crew of the Kuati warship.

"Captain Yutu," The Fleet Admiral continued, "You will be accompanying the Storm Commandos on their investigation of this island, um, what was its name again?"

"Alcatraz, Sir."

"Yes this Alcatraz place. Take whomever you need with you. Your team will be launching in ten minutes."

"Aye, Aye." Yutu clicked his heels together and gave the imperial salute. He swallowed hard in disbelief as he thought of his unexpected first combat mission. He was about to turn and head towards the turblolifts when the Fleet Admiral spoke again.

"One more thing, Captain; there is something I gleaned from studying what passes for ancient civilization on Earth, a particular saying that seems most fitting for your mission."

"Anything you feel could help, Sir. What is this local expression?" Yutu was surprised that Yos would cause any further delay in the rescue of his daughter.

"Return with your shield, or on it." The Fleet Admiral's fierce gaze bore into Yutu's eyes. "Do you understand what it means?"

Yes, Sir. Aye, aye." Yutu stammered. The implied threat was crystal clear.

"Dismissed, and good luck, Captain."

Yutu knew at that moment he would never disappoint the old man again. He never again wanted to see that gaze.

He retreated to the turbolift and the moment the doors were closed he took a second to gather his thoughts and calm his nerves. Not only had the Fleet Admiral put the fear of the Emperor in him but he would be entering ground combat for the first time in his life in less than a half hour. The doors to the turbolifts opened onto Beta Hanger and he was immediately greeted by his two subordinates, Lieutenant Commander Knebler and First Lieutenant Murp of Fleet Intelligence. Both had donned stormtrooper armor and were holding their buckets under their arms. They held out a suit of armor to him and he noted with relief that the white suit was made of the newer type of anti-ballistic armor Moff Kuat had developed after they had arrived on Mars.

Inside the hanger five _Sentinel_-class landing craft were being loaded with a platoon of white clad stormtroopers each. The only difference was that one of them, his own designated craft, was loaded with the blue suited troopers of the DiploServ, or the Ambassador's Guard as they were more commonly known.

"Sorry Sir, we couldn't get any made in Intelligence Red in time," Knebel smirked, as he handed Yutu a red kama and red pauldron. Yutu noted the two other officers sported the pauldrons as well. "I hope these will do."

"They'll do, Commander. I just hope they don't make us too much of a target for enemy snipers." Yutu watched as Knebel gulped hard: evidently his aide hadn't thought of that particular possibility. "Are we hitching a ride with the boys in blue?"

"Yes, Sir," Murp answered. "They insisted on being part of this mission. So much so that they volunteered to be the assault element on the prison while the other four platoons of stormies secure the perimeter. They went so far as telling Captain Dual that they would rescue the Ambassador or lay down their lives trying."

"I guess Dual couldn't pass on that offer. Well, the three of us will be tagging along on their assault." Yutu was almost done donning his unfamiliar body glove and armor and took a few moments more to make sure the kama was sitting right.

"Aye, aye, Sir." Both officers chimed in.

"Be on the lookout for any intel the Earthlings have lying about while we're in there." Yutu led them towards the open ramp of their shuttle. A blue stormtrooper officer nodded at him. Both of them knew they would be coming back with Phasma or not at all.

Yutu led the other two intelligence agents to their jump seats, where they each strapped themselves in. The ramp closed once the last of the DiploServ Troopers entered the _Sentinel. _Yutu quickly looked over the mission brief on his holopad as the shuttle gave a small lurch. Yutu felt the craft lift off as the ozone smell of the ion engines filled the cabin. Around him stormtroopers function checked their weapons and went through a dozen separate little rituals to get themselves ready for combat. Very few of them actually spoke to each other and one or two appeared to be asleep, or at least absolutely still in their seats.

Yutu rose from his seat and made his way to the crew cabin. The two pilots barely noticed his presence on their bridge. Through the viewport he watched their high altitude approach to the target. They were situated between the _Quill_ and the _Kuat's Vision_, both of which had started their renewed bombardment of the city below. The pilot reached across the instrument panel and slowly pushed a lever forward. The _sentinel's_ nose dipped forward and the craft began to plummet towards the planet below; four identical landing craft followed in their wake as turbolaser blasts flashed past them.

A hazy green and blue world slow;y sharpened into a brown coastline and then a smoke-filled gray harbor city. Several miles above the target the crew fought to straighten out the craft's descent. Puffs of black smoke erupted around the shuttle as the earthlings became aware of their presence. Yutu studied the fortress island below them as their escorting shuttles moved to flanking positions with each craft assigned to a different corner of the island. He noted several large anti-airspeeder slugthrowers on the island seconds before the _sentinels_ engaged the batteries. Medium range, carbonite missiles roared from their launchers to slam into each of the earth defenses. Within seconds the enemy fire slackened.

A sudden rocket from one of the closest buildings streaked at the flight of shuttles. It hit one of the escorts. Most of the blast glanced off the crafts shields but still caused some damage to one of the _sentinel's_ wings. The damaged craft descended faster than the others and Yutu watched helplessly as the shuttle slammed into the ground near the prison. He was relieved when stormtroopers raced down its ramps, and quickly saw flashes from their blasters as they engaged enemy targets in the fortress.

The Intelligence Chief watched the other shuttles disappear behind the buildings on the island as the ground rose rapidly towards his own. With a ringing clang the landing skids cracked the poorly-made cement they made contact with, and he felt the thud of the loading ramp swing open in the rear of the craft as the shuttle's wings folded up into its landing position. Several muffled impacts told him that the enemy knew they were in the neighborhood. He turned and strode back into the cargo compartment, which had already been emptied of everyone except for Knebler and Murp, who had waited to escort him outside.

The three of them made their way down the ramp and into the bright sunshine of the Earth's day. Yutu took a second to watch as the star destroyer orbital bombardment rolled over the hills and streets of the city across both sides of the harbor. An unknown crack erupted by his ear and suddenly Knebler was violently pulling him to the ground behind a pile of crumbling gray building material. It took a moment for his inexperienced mind to register that a slug had just whipped past his exposed helmet.

Ahead of them the blue stormtroopers were engaging enemy troopers in the large cell block ahead of them. The enemy had cut firing ports into the side of the building and from there were laying down suppressive fire on the Imperial troops. The Ambassador Guards were using fire and cover maneuvers as they slowly crept closer to the prison. In several places their returning blaster fire ripped through the flimsy earth construction material and made contact with the defending troops. He watched as an advancing blue trooper was hit by slugthrower-fire. The trooper was knocked on his back but rolled over and immediately returned bolts of red plasma at his assailant.

Nearby field medics worked on a trooper who had been hit by a slug in the body glove, right between the two armor plates of his left leg. They slapped several bacta-bandages on the man and sprayed his injuries with numb-spray and hypnocane, before moving him onto a repulserlift stretcher. They quickly moved him back to the open ramp of the _sentinel_. If they got to him in time, the trooper would be sporting a nice new cybernetic prosthetic and be back in the field in a month or two.

A two-male crew of troopers man-handled an EWHB-12 into position and started laying a withering fire into the enemy positions. Each impact from the weapon tore great chunks from the facade of the building and turned the enemy troopers hiding within into roasted jelly. Another crew manned a proton mortar and lobbed several shells at enemy fighters who had taken up positions on the roof of the building.

"PLEX!" A sergeant in blue armor screamed and a short-range GAM missile roared from a PLX-2M portable missile launcher. The round took half a second to cave in the heavy iron doors at the base of the cell block. "Gas 'em!" The sergeant ordered. Thirty seconds later the PLX roared again; this time its projectile burst open inside the prison block, releasing coma gas to knock out any hidden enemy troopers.

The blue stormtroopers charged towards the gap created by the weapon, followed by the three white-and-red clad intelligence agents. Yutu found himself caught up in the excitement of the raging battle and screamed a war-cry inside his bucket as he gripped his E-11 firmly in his fist. The first stormtroopers hit the gap and Yutu was surprised to see them go to ground so quickly. Their flashes of blaster fire indicated the location of enemy troopers clad in what appeared to be some kind of strange-looking re-breathers. How had his intelligence service missed this seemingly common earth defense he thought? He noticed a dead enemy trooper at his feet as he entered the building and took a moment to remove the near-human's re-breather, and tucked it into his belt for future study.

The DiploServ troopers pushed through and over the bodies of the defenders as they moved deeper into the fortress. Yutu studied the corpses and saw that fewer and fewer of them were in military uniform, but were now increasingly in civilian garb of some form or another. He must be getting closer to his target, he thought, just as a young female voice screamed through the din of the battle.

"Endex your blasting!"

Suddenly all blaster fire ceased. The remaining slugthrowers seemed to be making their retreat further away from the center of the building and right into the blasters of one of the perimeter stormtrooper platoons. The Sergeant from outside was the first to speak. "Who's there?"

"Phasma Yos!"

Every trooper let out an audible sigh of relief; Yutu's was the loudest amongst them.


	9. Phasma

White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico, NAU, Earth

The President of the NAU stared at the glaringly bright landscape outside of his Boeing E-4F Advanced Airborne Command Center. Somewhere beneath him Air Force ground crewmen were refueling the giant command ship as well as a nearby E-8C Joint Surveillance Target Attack Radar Aircraft. Ever since their escape from Washington D.C. several hours ago both planes had been zig-zagging across the North American Union in an attempt to keep the command authority of the Union intact during the alien attack. President Harris continued to glance skyward and tried to pick out their fighter cover in the crisp, blue sky. So far, the alien 'Imperials' had overlooked this particular air base during their massive bombardment of his country. That oversight had allowed them to refuel here and attempt to reconnect with his military forces engaged with the alien enemy.

The aircraft was packed full of dozens of Air Force technicians analyzing data from across the world. Almost all of it was horrible but he had taken solace in the news that the Secret Service had gotten the First Lady and his children out of Miami in time, and that they were now in a secure bunker somewhere in Missouri. If only millions of his countrymen could be relieved of such worries, he thought.

"We're ready for you, Mr. President." Said his National Security Advisor from a few meters away. The man was flanked by a pair of concerned-looking brigadier generals. The President stood and followed them to a soundproof conference room where teams of air force personnel manned a bank of screens. Each screen showed the face of a military commander or civilian adviser waiting for the video conference to begin. Due to the amount of electronic jamming the aliens had put into the air, his aircraft had had to land and run fiber-optic cables to land lines in order to get this much coverage.

"It's Los Angeles, Sir." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs announced from a command base somewhere in the Mojave desert. "Pretty much like we guessed from their pattern of bombardment." The President glanced at a nearby computer monitor showing the dispersal of the alien attack on the NAU.

"They've cut off Los Angeles County from the rest of the Union." He shook his head in disbelief. "What is the readiness of the forces in the area?"

The General in charge of the military build-up on the west coast answered. "Mr. President, we currently have twenty-seven divisions moving into the staging areas in the Central Valley, as well as seven divisions inside LA itself. Unfortunately the combat effectiveness of those units is only rated at fifty percent due to large amounts of casualties incurred while moving into the city."

"In regards to casualties, does anyone have any idea how many people we've lost in the cities that have been hit?" Silence greeted him, as he had expected. Over the past eight hours he had watched as city after city had been wiped off the map. The estimates that he had overheard from the technicians manning his aircraft were well into the eight digits. These totals dwarfed the death tolls seen during any presidency before him, including the Spanish influenza, the World Wars, and the Civil War combined.

The Secretary of the Interior broke the silence. "Mr. President, several hundred miles of Upper Californian highway have been razed and another two hundred bridges have been dropped by the aliens, making the deployment of military forces slow to a snail's pace, especially around LA."

"Speaking of LA, all I want to know is, are they on the ground yet?"

"They've moved several hundred of those 'H' fighters over the city, Sir." An Air Force General spoke up. "There was a large air engagement over the past half hour. Casualties are unknown but our own air defense forces have quit the area..."

"They got beat and ran for the hills, is what you're trying to say." The President tried to stay ahead of his rising frustration. Hopefully the army and marines would fare better once the aliens touch down. Eventually someone would have some good news to report, wouldn't they?

"Um, Yes Sir. The alien fighters have air superiority over the city. We have detected larger shuttle craft, with assumed troop-carrying capacity, approaching over the Pacific. ETA is in the next hour and all forces have been alerted."

"What about our little surprises?" The President asked hopefully.

"Eighteen batteries are in the suburbs of LA. As per orders, they haven't engaged the 'H' fighters. Two batteries were destroyed when they were emplaced too close to the aliens' orbital bombardment. We don't believe that they were specifically targeted by the enemy. Most of the newly constructed supply bunkers in the Central Valley were left untouched by the bombardment. The 'special' weapon should deploy within the next 48 hours."

"What of our naval forces in the area? Can we move more troops in by sea?" He hoped for good news of any kind. The last time he had checked with the Joint Chiefs a few hours ago, he had learned of the destruction and sinking of nine of the NAU's twelve aircraft carrier battle groups. A little over eighty thousand sailors and marines were lost with them.

"Sir, they've sank anything over a hundred tons. We've had some luck moving individual pieces of artillery into the city and up and down our coast with smaller craft but the aliens seem to be hunting down all of our big ships."

His Secretary of State chimed in, "Mr. President, the Europeans are having the same issues. They can't promise any heavy divisions coming to our aide and it's taken most of their airlift capacity to get the three divisions they've already started to move over here. As it is, we'll almost certainly have to equip those troops with heavy equipment as well."

"Thank them for their assistance anyways. It's a lot different from the last war, when they were back-stabbing us down south." Several heads on the screens nodded their agreement. "Is there any good news from our allies?"

The Secretary of State's shoulder's slumped, "Still no word from Moscow, Tokyo, Canberra, New Delhi, Tel Aviv, or London. The Chinese are maintaining contact through channels running through Alaska, same with the Southerners in the Caribbean, though how long that lasts is anyone's guess."

"Most of Congress made it out of Washington before the city was destroyed. They've been moved to a secure location in Hot Springs, Arkansas." The Vice-President reported from his location in the Yucatan. The President wondered if that was actually good news.

"We're still getting some good intel out of the Prisoner." The NSA Director reported, "Nothing from a military aspect, but still useful intel none-the-less." The President's eyes narrowed. The arrest and seizure of the alien ambassador hadn't been a popular choice, and watching as his nation was hit again and again by the girl's father, he could see some of the wisdom in those who were opposed to the decision. But what was he going to do, let the Empire bankrupt and make slaves of the people of Earth? Not likely, he thought.

"Mr. President, it appears the aliens are landing in mainland China. Their forces are ashore in Shanghai according to the Chinese Ambassador." The Secretary of State suddenly interjected. There was a round of excited chatter from each screen at that announcement. The bad news was that the Chinese wouldn't be coming to their aide this time. It probably ruled out their allies the Indians and the Russian Federation as well.

"Sir, spotters are picking up one of those 'Star Destroyers' on approach to this base." A technician announced. The whine of the engines grew louder and he noticed ground crew moving away from the plane outside.

"Mr. President, you need to get out of there." The Vice-President urged, just as the President felt the plane give a small lurch on the tarmac as it started to roll forward. Several of the screens turned to static as their connections were lost.

"Good luck to all of you." He announced as a Secret Servicewoman stepped forward to lead him to his seat for take off. "You have your orders. Time to let these 'Imperials' know they won't take the Earth so cheaply. Keep moving troops into LA; we can't let them get a foothold on our soil." he barely got his words out before the men and women on the monitors were lost to him.

He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes in thought. My God, how had it gotten so bad, so fast? He wondered if he would still have a country to lead when this was all over and done with.

An Air Force steward advanced on him, "Mr. President, The aliens have landed on Alcatraz. Forces there aren't responding to calls on their commo."

"I think I just lost my bargaining chip, Airman." His body slumped in his seat, as hope escaped with his exhalations.

"Can we beat them, Sir?" the airman asked hopefully.

The president hesitated, not feeling certain enough to answer the question that burned in all of their hearts. But he also knew an answer was needed and that he had to provide it. "One things for sure, son. Someone may beat us, but they're going to have to bleed to do it."

The President sighed and closed his eyes once more as the force of the takeoff pressed him back into his seat.

**Alcatraz Island, Target San Francisco, NAU, Earth**

Second Lieutenant Phasma Yos, Chief Ambassador of the DiploServ Branch of _Tarkin's Fist_, thought her cell stank. Mold, decay, salt water, and the odor of new construction mixed together to give the air in her prison a pungent smell. She sat with her back to the wall of her cell, her arms crossed over the front of her Ambassadorial white gown, and glared at her captors.

Four males and two females stood on the other side of some strange type of clear plastoid wall and stared back. She knew from observing the personnel of this prison that they didn't wear the military uniform of earth troopers instead they wore an all black, business-type suit. Whenever one of them would move she would catch a glance of the small, hold-out slugthrowers they concealed under their clothes. She smirked when she thought how much trouble they were going through just to guard a twelve-year old girl.

Even the cell seemed archaic. The clear plastoid seemed much weaker than transperisteel or even regular plastoid. She wondered why they didn't use a containment field to hold her, or even if they had developed that simple device yet. Their lack of stun cuffs or slave collars had been a relief, though they did have simple binders a guard had called 'handcuffs'. Her cell was newly constructed specifically for her and offered no privacy, though the earthlings had several female guards and matrons that would watch her when she needed a private moment.

She figured that she had been abducted a little over one of the earthling's seven day weeks ago, and had noticed a change in routine over the past day. They were getting scared, she knew, and they had every right to be. They had illegally, by their own laws even, kidnapped the daughter of Fleet Admiral Aveo Yos, the most powerful being who had ever sailed a fleet into this backrocket system. Early this morning she had been awakened by the distant rumble and impact of what could only have been an orbital bombardment. Evidently the time for diplomacy had passed, she mused from her cell.

She still couldn't believe what a mistake it had been on the Terran's part in abducting her. She remembered her meeting with their political leaders, and their subsequent betrayal, which had led to the deaths of her two shuttle crewmen during the earthling's traitorous rocket ambush. She worried about her four bodyguards who had been taken away. The enemy's so-called Secret Service had located electronic impulses coming from the guards and had correctly deduced that they had some sort of locating device inside of them. It had been a wise move on their part. She had been surprised to learn from the Terrans that Sergeant FG-5638 was somewhere in this prison this morning.

One of the guards had told her the history of her prison and was impressed by all the famous criminals the place had held in the past. All she had noted, however, was when he had mentioned that no one had ever escaped from the place.

After last week's ambush she had been moved quickly to her current location. She had had a black mask placed over her head and those metallic binders on her wrists, but she had heard waves and smelled the salt air and knew she hadn't gone far.

The interrogations had started early on. She had been questioned while being connected to a novel device, which the earthlings had informed her could detect lies, so she remained silent whenever she was near it. She had been seen by teams of therapists and government investigators those first two days, and she had kept quiet, except to relish throwing the Geneva Accords and her Miranda Rights back in their faces. The Earthlings had informed her that the Empire wasn't a signer of the Accords, nor was she a citizen of the NAU, and as such had no Miranda rights. They told her that her rights of Habeas Corpus had been suspended as well. She already knew this but used any angle she could think of to delay her questioners. She knew that every word she uttered was being analyzed by the enemy.

They brought her plenty to eat and drink and even changes of clothes, though she preferred her own white gown as a symbol of her office. She suspected the food might be laced with narcotics or whatever the local varient of spice was but she had taken Lotrimine before heading to Earth in an effort to countermand any truth-gas the earthlings might have applied at their initial meeting with her and so she gave them nothing. They had taken blood samples as well as every other type of fluid they could. She didn't blame them; Imperial Intelligence would have done the same, and had, on Mars and on the Earth's own moon.

Her only condition had been to be allowed to walk outside of the drafty prison. And after a few days of stony silence on her part the Terrans had acquiesced to her request, though under heavy guard. She had laughed when the guard force surrounding her on her first walk had been a dozen guards and two heavily armed platoons of NAU Marines, along with interrogators and camera crews to record her every move and word.

She admired a long orange bridge at the entrance of the bay as one of the earthling airspeeder carriers sailed out to sea beneath it. A twenty-something female earthling approached her, no doubt chosen because the abos thought Phasma would find some solace in a mutually gendered being of a youthful age.

"Hello Phasma, I'm Sarah." The woman had introduced herself.

"You may address me as Ambassador or Second Lieutenant." Phasma had icily responded. She didn't bother to meet her gaze.

"Ok, Ambassador, we've let you outside. Can you tell me a little about yourself? What planet were you born on?"

Phasma feared they wouldn't let her out again if she didn't cooperate a little. No military or science information though, she silently reminded herself.

"I was born on the Star Destroyer _Quill_, though if I had a home planet it would probably be Subterrel, rimward in the Outer Rim Territories." Phasma watched in amusement as this so-called Sarah tried to form her next question. Would it be about the _Quill_ or Subterrel? She gave each subject a fifty-fifty chance.

"So you were raised on this Subterrel place? It is a member of your 1st Galactic Empire correct?"

"Oh, yes it's been so since the end of the Clone Wars." The name of the epic war slipped out, and Phasma wondered what the Earthling's would make of that.

Sarah stood staring at her for a minute before continuing. "So, Subterrel and this other planet, Imperial Center, are the only members of the Empire? Evidently your Emperor Palpatine resides on Imperial Center, correct?"

Phasma saw no harm in giving the earthlings a lesson in galactic geography, especially on a galaxy they were unlikely to ever reach. "Subterrel is a minor planet in an insignificant sector in the Empire. I doubt most citizens of the Empire even know of her."

"So how big is your Empire? I mean, how many planets lie within its domain?"

"Planet-wise, I don't know, I learned in school that it was about a million and a half member planets, with another fifty million protectorates, colonies, and governorships stretching from Wild Space to the Deep Core. I believe it's only about a fourth of the galactic disc though." Phasma explained. Hopefully these Terrans would be intimidated by the numbers they were up against.

"A fourth, so there are areas that the Empire doesn't control? Are they inhabited?" Sarah seemed more hopeful in her line of questioning.

"Some are, there's Hutt Space, the Hapes Cluster, or the Corporate Sector Authority..." Phasma wondered if she should be mentioning them.

"Would any of these civilizations be interested in an alliance with Earth?"

Phasma almost burst out in wild laughter. She had forgotten the Earthlings still believed that _Tarkin's Fist_ was from their own galaxy. She wondered how many resources they would waste pursuing strategies they had deduced from her misleading answers.

"Of course, you can always try to reach them. I doubt they could arrive here in time to give your planet any aid however." Her questioner frowned at that but moved on to the next question, which pertained to Imperial commo and how to overcome the electronic jamming that was aimed at Earth. Phasma became stoney and silent when asked those questions.

So it went for several days. Her questioners would take her outside and start with benign questions. She was asked about Imperial foods, animals, what Mars was like with a breathable atmosphere, about her father, what she studied in school. She avoided a lot of answers and would always remain as silent as the grave the topic veered onto military matters.

On her sixth day of captivity she was on her walk with her heavily armed guard force in a thick fog that had rolled in off of the nearby bay. She strolled past anti-airspeeder slugthrower positions that had been dug over the past few days and around new emplacements that were still under construction. Several companies of earth troopers drilled in the morning fog.

Sarah seemed more nervous than usual when she started her inquiries that morning and Phasma noted several troopers that kept staring up into the heavens, as if they could spot an imminent assault. She wondered if her father was drawing close.

"Second Lieutenant Yos, you mentioned the Clone Wars before." Sarah began.

"Yes, my father fought in them over a standard decade ago."

"Were you aware that you might also be a clone?"

Phasma's jaw dropped in disbelief. Her tongue struggled for the right words to throw back into her interrogator's face, but her mind was simply too confused at the far-fetched accusation. "Why would you say that?"

"As you might have guessed, we have done extensive medical testing on you and the soldiers that made up your guard force. We have noted that the DNA between your guards and the people of Earth are just about identical; they have some vitamin deficiencies, such as almost no potassium in their system, but are otherwise the same as we are."

"Go on. I believe I've heard this same report from our scientists after our conquest of Mars, but continue."

"Your DNA however, is much different. Our own doctors have noted that your DNA seems altered, almost manufactured. When tested, you seem to be immune to almost every disease and malady we can think up; your actual cell-death seems minimal, almost as if you were designed to last several centuries. Your IQ is extremely high, even compared to your own men. Surely you've noticed how your reflexes and senses seem amplified."

Could this female be speaking the truth? Phasma had no doubts the medical technology of the Earthlings was archaic but it should still be able to pick up basic differences in DNA. Phasma chose not to respond, as she was lost in her own confusing internal search for answers. She knew who her father was and tried to remember everything she had ever known about her mother. Which wasn't much, she realized. She had been born. Born, she reminded herself, in the Subterrel Sector out in the asteroid belt. There wasn't anything out there except those back-world archeologists, the Polis Massans.

"By the Emperor..." she blurted out. The Polis Massans were cloners as well. They had learned the art from the Kaminoans and had helped provide huge orders of shovel-handed clones to work the mines of Subterrel once upon a time. "...I need to return to my cell, I'm not feeling well." Sarah nodded and the guard force led her back inside the prison. Phasma noticed the smile of satisfaction that passed over Sarah's features.

The rest of that day the earthlings came frequently to her cell to check on her medical vitals and her mental condition, but she was too distracted to talk with any of them. The night came and went and she stayed awake through most of it pondering whether or not what the Earthlings had told her was true.

She had finally drifted off sometime before dawn when a screaming guard had woken her. "Murderer! How could you? My family was in Chicago!" I'll kill you..." The guard was fumbling with his keys when he was tackled by several other guards and hauled away.

An hour later the distant sounds of rumbling thunder and the small tremors of groundquakes started. Dust and debris fell from several areas of the prison visible from her cell, and a distant siren sounded over and over again. Her guards whispered nervously amongst themselves and nobody dared address her for quite a while. A few minutes after the rumbling, distant pounding of explosions ended her interrogator Sarah appeared; this time she wore some type of cheap body armor complete with a helmet and a slugthrower strapped to her thigh.

"It's time for you to talk," Sarah's tone was menacing, "You can go for a walk if it'd help, but you'll be shackled on both your wrists and ankles."

"Fine. But I warn you, I don't have much to say to beings who abduct peaceful ambassadors." Phasma retorted. A guard approached and attached metal binders to her appendages. When she rose she found she could only shuffle slowly forward. The guards led her out of the cell and out of the prison. She noted the snarled wreckage of that beautiful orange bridge on the far side of the harbor and smiled at the audacity of the earthlings in resisting the Empire.

"What is the main weakness of a Star Destroyer?" Sarah started.

"As if I would ever tell you that." She wanted to laugh in her captor's faces.

"What is the main gas used by the lasers of your fleet?" What is the speed and maneuverability of your 'H' fighters?" Sarah barked at her. Phasma just glared at her, but she got the impression the earthlings were done playing around.

"I have no idea what an 'H' fighter is, and if I did I certainly wouldn't tell you."

Sarah ignored Phasma's refusal and pressed forward. "How long after an orbital attack would it take for your father to launch an invasion? Would your soldiers be equipped like they were on the moon?"

"Farkle off, Bugslut." Phasma put as much bile in that as she could. Sarah slapped her across the face. The other guards pretended not to see anything.

"Millions of my countrymen woke up this morning and were suddenly murdered by your father. Don't you dare speak to me in that tone." Sarah warned. Phasma remained stubbornly silent. Sarah grabbed her by the binder and led her to an area where several black-suited guards stood around an Imperial-uniformed being in binders of his own, kneeling on the hard ground. He had a black bag over his head but Phasma felt a lump grow in her throat when she realized who it was underneath the mask.

Sarah approached the figure and lifted off the bag. Before her knelt the battered and broken form of FG-5638, her guard force sergeant. His eyes met hers and relief washed over his features. His face was covered in bruises and cuts, which was alarming in itself, but Phasma was aghast when he opened his mouth to reveal his had chewed off his own tongue. Evidently the brave NCO had refused to talk as well. He mumbled strange sounds of warning, but the only word she made out was..."Princess..."

"Yes, Princess," Sarah taunted her, "The kiddie gloves are off; you are going to tell us what we need to know. Or do the lives of your men mean nothing to you?" The earthling pulled out a small hand-held slugthrower and pressed it to FG-5638's temple. There were several tense seconds. "Well, Phasma, are you going to tell us what we want? Are you going to tell us how to defend ourselves, or is poor FG-5638 here going to have to pay the price for your stubbornness?"

FG-5638 shook. His eyes pleaded for her to remain silent, and she was compelled by his act of bravery to follow his voiceless order. She didn't know how many deathly quiet seconds passed before the roar of the slugthrower's blast rang out. Phasma jumped at the climatic, ear-shattering noise and tore her gaze away from FG-5638's lifeless body smacking into the cement floor.

"Scum." Phasma whispered.

Sarah just sneered back. "Work her over," She told the black-suited guards, "We don't have a lot of time if we're going to stop those starships from destroying more cities." Two guards took Phasma by the arms and led her back inside. As she caught her last glimpse of the horizon she desperately searched it for the outline of a Star Destroyer.

Once inside she was taken to a medical bay and strapped to a chair. A medic injected something into her arm and Phasma hoped she still had traces of Lotrimine running through her veins. A bank of bright lights was shone in her face as the earthlings started firing questions at her.

"How many troops have you brought into this system? What types of weapons do they use? What types of armor? Supplies? Ammunition? Weak spots on Star Destroyers? 'H' Fighters? Jamming and communication equipment?" The interrogation seemed endless and mostly fruitless until they tried a new tactic. Her chair was suddenly turned and the back was flipped rearwards, so that she was laying with her head inclined downwards. Her captors then started pouring water over her face and into her breathing passages. She unsuccessfully fought her gag reflex and as the water torture continued she feared the Terrans might actually drown her. Again and again they repeated the process until she screamed, "Please, I'll talk, just stop."

"Good, I'm sure you have much to tell us." Sarah's voice menacingly came from somewhere on the other side of the lights. "Now, first off..." Her voice trailed off as nearby explosions erupted to the north and south.

Her father was back. Phasma grasped at a new hope.

"...Move her back to her cell." Sarah commanded the guards. Phasma was unstrapped and hurriedly shoved back to her cell.

Several soldiers rushed by her cell but a handful of the black-suited guards stayed behind to watch her. She jumped when a series of large explosions erupted from every direction around the perimeter of the small island where she was imprisoned. They were quickly followed by the bark of dozens of slugthrowers firing. She saw the guards listening to the firefight on their comms and struggled to make out the distant sounds of blaster fire. A large blast followed by several smaller explosions pierced the cell block and suddenly the sounds of the fight enveloped her. She heard the roar of an E-web ripping into the earth defenders and the whine of several shuttles before the terrible clanging of the iron doors of the prison being ripped off their hinges rang in her ears.

Several heartbeats passed in silence before she noted the sickly smell of coma gas wafting through the cell block. The guards outside her cell donned some strange type of re-breathers and took up positions to repel the Imperial assault. Bandaged and bloodied soldiers retreated past them. She fought to hold her breath against the gas and covered her mouth and nose with a wet towel. Then suddenly red blaster bolts tore into the last of the guards. The blaster bolts shredded defensive cover and earthling alike.

Suddenly there was a single blue stormtrooper in front of her cell, his E-11 pointed at her mid-section. "Endex your blasting!" she screamed.

"Who's there?" an electrically-enhanced voice cut through the smoke and din of the dying battle.

"Phasma Yos."

Her eyes stung from the coma gas as she watched the Imperial troops cut their way into her cell. A white stormtrooper with the red kama and pauldron of Naval Intelligence placed an earth-style rebreather on her face. "Thank you..." She said. She noted the stormtrooper's rank squares as he bent over her and then, she spurted and coughed and tried to come to attention, "...Captain Yutu." She fired off her best salute to her boss in the Bureau of Operations.

"Believe me." He made a circular motion with his hand to another white stormtrooper behind him, "It was my pleasure. We need to get you off this rock and back up to the _Quill_." The troopers behind him started gathering up whatever they could from the area outside her cell.

Several of her blue DiploServ troopers formed around her as they led her through the cell-block. She noted how Yutu commanded his own stormtroopers in gathering intelligence papers, earth cameras, and computers as fast as they could. Evidently they weren't planning on staying here very long. In the distance she heard the dying sounds of the battle raging outside.

Once outdoors, she was greeted by the sight of several large _Sentinel_-class shuttles parked on the edges of the island. Stormtroopers stood guard over almost a hundred captured earthlings, kneeling in ranks, with their hands clasped behind their heads. A pair of stormtroopers with red pauldrons were going through each captured soldier's gear. Blue and white stormtroopers were hurriedly loading their own gear and heavy weapons back aboard the shuttle, along with several varieties of Earth gear for future study. She was relieved to see a pair of medics retrieving FG-5638's remains from inside the cell block.

"Can we take them all?" She gestured to the Earthlings before her and asked Captain Yutu, who refused to leave her side.

"We don't have the room..." He started to explain, but something had caught her eye.

"Can I borrow your sidearm?" Phasma interrupted him. With a quizzical look he handed over his blaster. Phasma had seen something in the row of prisoners, something that had filled her with rage. Under her trooper's watchful gaze she walked amongst the rows of earthlings. Their beaten faces shone with a mix of hope and hatred at appearance of the twelve year old. She ignored them. She walked until she stood in front of her blonde tormentor, Sarah.

Sarah glared at her as Phasma placed the muzzle to the Terran's forehead. Sarah spoke, her voice tinged with hate, "I was doing it to protect my own people. You would have done the same. Do it. Your whole Empire is nothing more than a bunch of murderers..."

The small blaster barely had any recoil at all when it went off in Phasma's hand. The bolt slammed into Sarah's temple and her body slumped to the ground. "So uncivilized." she shuddered, as the hate from her first murder left her body.

A collective gasp rose from the captured prisoners around her. Her guards moved closer to protect her in case one of them tried to foolishly assault her. Phasma addressed the prisoners. "You beings have five minutes after we depart before we eradicate this island with our Star Destroyers. If you survive, tell your planet that the Empire is not to be trifled with." Then she turned and walked back towards the shuttle, Where the last of the assault force was loading.

Over the whine of shuttles taking off she heard Captain Yutu's voice, "A friend of yours, I take it?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Hate seeped from her body as the effects of her first killing of a near-human left her body with a shudder.

"Fair enough." He replied, leading her and the last of her guards up the loading ramp.

"Captain Yutu, can you keep a secret?" She wondered for a second if she should ask him her question. After all Yutu was her father's man. But he was also one of the few that could find out the truth without her father finding out.

"Of course."

"Can you tell me everything you know about my father and cloning?" The ramp slammed shut behind them.


	10. Dusel

Culter City, Mars, 1st Martian Empire

The day had started quietly; the moon of Phobos shone in the morning sky above the city. The skies had only recently begun their change from orangey-red to an oxygen-rich indigo more in tune with their rival Earth's horizons. The weather had promised to warm up to almost spring-like temperatures, and thanks to their terraforming efforts a seasonal rain had drenched the landscape only the night before.

Thousands of the city's inhabitants had piled into their landspeeders or public airspeeders and maneuvered around the growing metropolis towards their jobs in hundreds of factories and greenhouses. Public shuttles carried driveyard workers through the skies to the KDY orbital driveyards. Droids and beings filed in to perform their duties at the massive, undermanned manufacturing plants, agricultural combines, terraforming plants, and enormous shipyards in orbit above the city. Others struggled to make it to work as traffic snarled the city's roadways and skyways, as the sun started to burn off the puddles of overnight rain.

Everywhere beings went the HoloNews brought updates from the naval fleet surrounding their declared adversary, Earth. The fleet carried with it the hopes of the new-borne Empire and to many it carried their loved ones and family members that had chosen to serve Mars and the Empire. A thousand different species manned the warships of _Tarkin's Fist_ and their dependents hoped that the Force was with them.

Towards mid-afternoon news of the opening blasts of the bombardment reached Mars. Beings shook each others' hands and felt good about finally hitting back on the foreign culture that had dared to attack them and kidnap their young ambassador. Every heavy turbolaser impacting on the Earth would let them sleep easier at night. Every plasma impact was another step closer to their servicebeings returning safe to the Empire.

Throughout the day beings gathered around the HoloNews broadcasts on their breaks or offered opinions about the distant war around their water filtrators. At the new Martian Imperial Academy cadets drilled and talked in anticipation of their own future deployments with the fleet. Across the city younglings of all ages excitedly watched history in the making as their teachers let them view the Holonews inside their classrooms.

That evening, as shifts of droids continued at their stations and another shift of workers reported to the most essential of industries, the HoloNews interrupted all broadcasts. The scoreboard at Wild Space Stadium flashed the news, stopping the limmie match between the East Culter City Imperials and the West Side Martian Warriors. The lights of Tarkin Square flashed the message to evening shoppers and the announcement on the huge Holoprojectors at Skywalker Memorial Racetrack halted the podrace about to commence.

The Chief Ambassador and daughter to the Fleet Admiral, Phasma Yos, had been rescued by the special forces of _Tarkin's Fist_. Their very own princess was coming home; she was safe. With the announcement there came the whispered hopes that every one of their loved ones would make it home safely as well.

The Long Jump Casino gave away drinks on the house for the rest of the evening as their HoloViewers showed images of the Fleet Admiral and his daughter aboard the _Quill_. The Fleet Admiral had declared them a new Martian Empire just the week before, and even if he wasn't crowned as Emperor soon his young daughter was already royalty in his being's eyes.

Shiny, new TIE/In Interceptors flew over the city, releasing thousands of blossoming fireworks high above the cheering crowds. People hearing the news in their homes flocked to the city center. An Imperial Marine bent a pretty pink Twilek girl backwards and planted a kiss on her lips, just as a HoloNews reporter caught the image and flashed it on the massive HoloProjectors above the crowd.

Bottles of alcohol and hand-lit fireworks flowed freely through the masses. When an image of the two Yos family members appeared live on the HoloProjectors, the crowd roared its exuberation. Above the Fleet Admiral a holographic sign proclaimed "Mission Accomplished!"

To the citizens of the Martian Empire that was enough; their Princess was coming home to Mars.

**3500 meters over the East China Sea, Nearing Yangtze Delta, Target West**

"It's gonna be full of Mandos." Dusel worried aloud to his fellow Imperial Army pilot, Malm.

Both of them sat behind the control panels in the cockpit 'head' of their Imperial Walker. Neither one of them had ever seen combat with their AT-AT before, so this would be a baptism by fire for them both. From the gunner's chair Malm flipped a toggle on their viewscreen's HoloProjector and brought up the images being transmitted from the pilots of the Incom Y-85 _Titan_ Dropship that was carrying their walker, along with three others, into the invasion beaches.

"No kriffing way. It's just bantha poodoo HoloNet propaganda, Gullipad. There's no way the Mandolorians made it all the way out to this mudball."

"I'm betting it's something like a bunch of their descendants bred with the locals, probably in order to make some kind of new super-soldier race." Dusel offered.

"You're just psyching yourself out." Malm refused to concede the argument that served to distract them from the fear of entering their first combat mission. Their HoloProjection showed several flights of TIE/sa bombers racing in formation and plastering targets ahead of the lumbering dropships. The bomber's proton torpedos ripped the guts out of the newly built defenses stretched along the oceanfront of the city. "From everything we've seen on Mars and their local moon, they've been a bunch of push-overs, and except for the _Insertion_, they haven't been able to do a sith-damned thing about it either."

"So you think this will be a blue-milk run?" The AT-AT shook in its containment as the _Titan_ hit a patch of turbulence.

Both pilots looked up at Target West ahead. A solid wall of smoke and flames surrounded the city, a result of the orbital bombardment that had aimed to cut the city off from the rest of its country. Dusel stared intently at TIE/In starfighters driving off the last of the Earth airspeeders over what he had learned was locally named, Shanghai.

Puffs of black smoke erupted over the burning metropolis as the enemy's slugthrowers began to put up a heavy protective curtain of flak coverage. Dusel hated to imagine what would happen when all of those supposedly 'lead' slugs they were throwing up, came down. Not his problem, he reminded himself. As they approached, several columns of white smoke rose quickly from the city as anti-airspeeder missiles rose to meet them. Laser and plasma cannons from the escorts immediately met the challenge and orange explosions erupted in several locations ahead of his force.

Suddenly there was hurried motion amongst the escorts. They seemed to be chasing faster, more maneuverable missiles that were streaking towards the Imperial invasion force. "Malm, see if you can get an ID on any of those?"

The gunner engaged his targeting computer. His holographic targeting system gave Malm a 360 degree view of the battlefield and was fed the latest enemy equipment updates from fleet intelligence.

"3M-80MBE Sunburns, anti-ship missiles." they both watched in horror as one of the weapons got through the escorts and smashed into a LAAT/c ahead of them. The small transport tore itself apart in mid-air and fell out of formation towards the shiny blue ocean below, several doomed stormtroopers plummeted from the wreckage. Alarm tones chirped inside their command space. One of the remaining missiles was bearing down on the dropship. Dusel could only hold his breath; until the dropship released the AT-ATs they were completely at the mercy of the _Titan's_ defensive systems.

The walker rattled violently in its containment rack as the missile slammed into the dropship's forward deflector shield. Lights flickered on and off inside the massive cargo hold for a moment as the starship's crew responded from the hit.

"Wow, the _Titan's_ shield is only at thirty percent and raising after that one." Malm informed him. It was information Dusel could do without as he scanned the sky for more of the sneaky projectiles.

"What was that?" Major Wells, the Walker's Commander, suddenly appeared at his place in the cockpit. He had been checking on the ready status of the forty Imperial Marines that filled the AT-ATs cargo hold when the attack began.

"Anti-ship missiles, Sir." Malm informed him, "Got one of our smaller carriers but the escorts seem to have shot down the rest of them."

"One of them hit the _Titan_ a second ago, Sir." Dusel spoke up.

"That's what we felt, huh. Well, time to get tactical." The officer said, "Driver, warm her up. We'll be dirtside in a few minutes."

Dusel reached his gloved-hands across the control panels and began the start-up process on the two KDY FW62 Compact Fusion Drive Systems that powered the walker.

"Gunner, prime the blasters. We're the second Walker on the beach." Malm went through the procedure to charge and boresight the chin-mounted Taim & Bak MS-1 Heavy Laser Cannons, as well as the medium repeating blasters on the sides of the walker's 'head'. The walker hummed to life as the _Titan_ lurched in its continued descent

"Attention all walkers." A voice rose from a small blue, holoimaged figure between Dusel and Malm. The holoimage of the _Titan's_ captain faced Major Wells, "Five minutes to landing. Stormtrooper carriers are already on the ground. Enemy resistance is at Case Yellow conditions."

Dusel watched the holoprojection of the battle and saw where the Imperial troops were landing. He could feel his heart start to beat faster as the _Titan_ neared its landing zone. He tried to take in everything that was happening around them to distract himself from his own building sense of the jeeblies.

Two AT-AT swimmers were being dropped off by _Theta_-class barges off-shore, while several AIAT/i patrolled the waterways alongside the city. He watched in awe as one of them turned a large wooden sailing ship to kindling seconds after hitting the water. His gaze passed over the metropolis; he didn't see a lot that he liked. They had a huge tower in the middle of the skyline that would have been considered pretty if Dusel weren't convinced that it was packed full of Mando artillery spotters.

MAATs and LAATs dropped off hundreds of platoons of stormtroopers as enemy artillery rolled in from the west. Blaster fire mixed with strange red slugfire that came from concealed positions along the shore. The stormtroopers charged inland as the _Titan_ made its approach. Dusel tried to ignore several prone, unmoving figures in white that were left behind as the first of the Imperial forces swept over the outnumbered seaside defenders.

"Long way from Chandrila, isn't it Dusel?" Malm asked next to him.

Dusel thought of his home world. He'd probably never see it again. He had been raised on a plantation and trained by his father to drive and maintain the enormous agricombines that harvested the planet's crops. It had been boring, stifling work, and Dusel had yearned for more. Chandrila's society had always emphasized peace and education, and service in the new Empire was something that was usually shunned. So it had been a shock to both his mother and father when he had enlisted in the Stormtrooper Corps. His father had practically disowned him. Malm sported a similar story, but his was set on the peace-loving planet of Alderaan.

Dusel's experience with massive vehicles and machinery had launched his career as an Imperial Army Pilot of the AT-AT walker. He had jumped at the chance, and then a year after enlisting he had been shipped to the Horuz and prepared for the 'big jump' to the maw with the rest of _Tarkin's Fist_. His arrival in this unknown system had been a shock to him, as well as to the entire Armor Corps, but training on the red plains of Mars had been a thrill and he had never seen a more exciting place than Culter City. With all of the construction going on and the rapid changes in the city's entertainment options, every day there was filled with the promise of something new. The only problem that any being on the roadway could see was their potential adversary on Earth. In true Imperial fashion Dusel agreed that their rival had to be taken down a few pegs.

An explosion somewhere in the city ahead sent a giant fireball cascading into the air. Nervous sweat started beading under Dusel's uniform. "Yes, we're definitely nowhere near Chandrila anymore."

The _Titan_ descended the last few hundred meters and approached what appeared to be a multi-laned roadway running between the waters of the harbor and the taller skyscrapers. The holomap reader inside the command head labeled the area the Pudong District. The _Titan_ rumbled to a stop and hovered forty meters over the roadway.

"Switch the viewscreen back to normal." Major Wells ordered, and with a flick of Malm's hand the view changed from the holographic outside battle to the real time internal view of the _Titan's_ hold. The floor underneath the walker next to theirs retracted and their sister AT-AT was already slowly descending towards the planet's surface.

Dusel reached across the panel and switched off the atmospheric exchangers, then performed a final cross-check of all his drive-systems. Mentally, he started pumping himself up for his first taste of combat and tried unsuccessfully to push his jeeblies aside. Every veteran he had asked had told him it was nothing like the combat simulators or field training he had already experienced. He breathed out a long, steady exhale to calm his nerves as the floor retracted beneath his walker.

A huge containment claw-arm lowered the AT-AT to the ground and sunlight suddenly lit up the command head as the walker left the hold. The cockpit viewport as well as Dusel's helmet lenses polarized to protect his eyes. When the footpads of the massive vehicle were about a meter off of the ground the claw arm released it and receded back into the _Titan_. The AT-AT hit the battlefield with an initial dip as the shock absorbers in its knees bore the impact of the drop. In a single instant the AT-AT was fully-battle-ready, engines and blasters charged.

The buildings nearest the roadway had already been turned to rubble by TIE/sa bombers, and the AT-AT to their right flank was already advancing towards what appeared to be another debris-covered street. Dusel could see white-clad, camouflaged stormtroopers moving through the rubble, the flashes of their blasters indicating enemy positions in the buildings ahead.

"Driver, move out. Follow TW-49's lead" The AT-AT's commander ordered. Dusel engaged the drive-throttles and the walker advanced steadily in formation as the _Titan_ dropped the remaining two walkers behind them. Dusel followed the lead walker, TW-49, in its advance. He smiled in glee as his AT-AT's huge, durasteel left front footpad stepped on an earth landspeeder, crushing the vehicle into scrap metal.

Several AT-STs raced ahead of his formation. One block ahead they pivoted and engaged an enemy roadblock in a one-sided skirmish before continuing their advance. A second later a rocket streaked from a floor in a nearby skyscraper, the projectile bouncing harmlessly off one of the scout walkers in front of them.

"Gunner, Target, Infantry Front." Major Wells ordered as he spotted the attacking anti-armor team. "About the seventh or eighth floor, Corporal."

"Identified." Malm located the rocket team by following the smoke trail of their weapon. The gunner's own targeting computer fed his helmet's HUD heat sources within the building, which further identified the enemy troopers hidden there.

"Fire."

"On the way." Malm responded with glee in his electronically amplified voice. The twin chin-mounted heavy blasters erupted. Heavy blaster bolts slammed into the face of the building just moments before two of the other walkers in their platoon engaged the same target. The enemy troopers were instantly vaporized as the blasts pulverized multiple floors.

"Continue to engage that target, Gunner. Bring it down." The AT-AT Commander ordered. "Driver, hold back a bit."

Dusel brought the walker to a halt as the trailing two AT-ATs came up on his left flank. All four of the armored vehicles poured heavy blaster fire into the base of the building as well as the two buildings that bordered it. It did not take long before all three were in the process of collapse. A huge cloud of dust billowed from the base of the collapse, rolling out and covering the AT-STs and stormtroopers below. The height of his walker allowed it to keep its command head just above the cloud as it settled.

His eyes were drawn to several pairs of field medics pulling repulser-stretchers to the rear. Their loads filled with dead or wounded stormtroopers smashed to jelly by the enemy artillery. Another walking wounded was being helped to the rear by his comrades, the casualty's arm was missing just below the elbow. Thank the Force he was behind forty decimeters of durasteel armor he told himself.

Dusel's thermal imaging system let him watch as the AT-STs charged ahead once again despite the poor visibility of the dust cloud. Stormtroopers raced into the newly collapsed rubble to clear out any enemy that may have miraculously survived the attack. Dozens of TIE/sa bombers above him raced ahead to flatten enemy positions ahead of the assault. Dusel silently hoped there would still be some left for them when they cleared the rubble field.

Through the smoke and dust of the battlefield Dusel noticed the huge tower he had spotted on their descent. The HoloMap reader labeled it the Oriental Pearl Tower, and it had the appearance of a needle with a ball impaled upon it. No sooner did Dusel wonder if it was harboring enemy artillery spotters, than the sound of a sledgehammer rattled through the walker from its cargo hold. After a few thumping heartbeats the rattle of incoming impacts had increased until it sounded as if someone was throwing huge handfuls of stones at his AT-AT's durasteel hull.

"Major, we're taking heavy slugthrower fire." Malm informed the commander as his 360 degree battlefield targeting computer identified the threat.

"What do we have?" Wells asked.

"Looks like 105 and 155 millimeter slugs, exactly what we were briefed to expect."

"That's their standard artillery. Do we have a shot?"

"No line of sight, Major."

"I'll call air support. I haven't heard if they've got the AT-APs or the SPHA-MDs in place yet."

"Sir," Dusel interjected, "I'm betting the enemy is calling in indirect artillery slug-fire from that big tower over there." He pointed at the building through the forward viewscreen.

"Sounds like a good Sabacc, Corporal. Come left forty-five degrees and plant her." Dusel toggled the stick and felt the massive walker lurch to the port side. As soon as he brought her around far enough he planted all four legs in place to give the Gunner a steady firing platform.

"Gunner, try to hit it as close to the base as possible."

This presented some difficulty as the tower was still a few blocks off, and the best Malm could do was hit it some eight floors from the ground. A heavy slug bounced off of the lead right leg, vibrating Dusel's teeth.

"Target, forward, tower."

"Identified." Malm stated flatly, lining up his heavy blasters.

"Fire."

"On the way." Malm slammed his thumbs down on the firing studs.

Dusel felt the two heavy blasters slam back and forth beneath the 'head', as two red bolts roared across the city. They found their target a hundredth of a second later, impacting and then exploding through the distinctive edifice. Immediately the building buckled on one side, snapping into several massive sections as it slammed into the streets around it.

"Driver, move out." Dusel followed the command and twisted the toggles forward. "Punch it, Corporal!" The AT-AT's commander ordered. Dusel charged his walker through the rubble ahead of him. Almost instantly the rattle of artillery impacts died away.

"Enemy slug-fire is still falling on our last position." Malm informed the crew. "Without their spotters they must figure we're still there."

"Good job crew." Major Well's smile could be seen from behind his targeting periscope. "Let's keep scanning for targets."

Dusel brought their walker back into formation with the rest of the platoon of AT-ATs. They lumbered ahead through the collapsing rubble of the Chinese metropolis, striking towards their first objective line, the Haungpu River. Dusel felt himself start to calm down for the first time since they had touched down dirtside. He checked the time inside his HUD and noted they were well ahead of schedule.

"The 564th and 293rd Stormtrooper Legions are reporting breakthrough on our flanks." Malm reported; one of his duties was to monitor field commo. The Gunner pushed the stubs again, sending more superheated bolts ahead of them in support of the advancing stormtroopers. "Scouts are reporting that large amounts of enemy troops have been sighted retreating towards the river."

"Good. Let's not let our guard down." Their officer warned. As if to emphasize his points a large slug ricocheted off the transparisteel viewport. All three crew members started scanning for the slugthrower that had dared to fire at their walker.

"Target. Front. Hovertank...um Tank, it's got treads, I think." Major Wells indicated an armored vehicle ahead that had camouflaged itself by backing into a store front and then covering itself in rubble. Dusel spotted the enemy vehicle at the same time as the gunner. Several Chinese troopers could be made out firing smaller slugthrowers at the stormtroopers following in his walker's wake.

"Identified." Malm went through the blasting sequence once again.

"Fire." Wells commanded, already searching for the next targets.

"On the way." Two more bolts sliced through the earthlings' tank as if it was bantha butter, the superheated tibanna frying the crew as if they were standing next to an erupting supernova. Several nearby enemy troopers fell as the tank exploded in a shrapnel-flinging fireball.

Major Wells announced that he spotted three more aboriginal tanks retreating towards an alleyway. Before he could order Dusel and Malm into action a pair of AT-STs ripped the small armored column to shreds. Just more earthling troopers paying the price for resisting the Empire.

They spent the next few minutes leveling a series of commercial blocks with the rest of the armored platoon. Flaming enemy troopers and civilian beings collapsed in front of the approaching Imperial Army. Hundreds of buildings were obliterated and thrown about as if they were the playthings of an angry youngling. The flames of hundreds of fires added smoke to the cloud of dust that threatened to choke the battlefield. Dusel watched through thermal sights as stormtroopers escorted thousands of surrendering and wounded Terran troopers to the rear. Many of the enemy wore rebreathers or had strips of cloth wrapped across their faces. Covered in ash and dust they looked the same color as their captors.

Dusel cringed as he brought the AT-AT to a wide street covered in chinese corpses. He wasn't sure if they were dead civilians or troopers that had been caught in some unknown, earlier Imperial attack. Major Wells acted as if he hadn't noticed the carpet of enemy dead and ordered him forward. Dusel fought to keep the contents of his stomach down as he obeyed. He thunderous footfall crushing bodies into the cheap duracrete pavement.

When a multi-storied apartment complex collapsed in front them, revealing the flowing waters of the Haungpu. The iron superstructures of several collapsed bridges could be seen protruding from the swirling water like the broken bones of ancient rancors. The other side of the river was a hell of exploding blue and green impacts from Imperial artillery firing from the landing zones. Hundreds of near naked, panicked beings swam for the distant shore. Several forward-operating AT-RTs raked the swimmers with their cannons from the concealment of the choking dust cloud. It felt like murder. It was murder. How had a farmboy from Chandrila ended aiding a massacre?

"Hold here, Driver. Let's give the rest of the legion a chance to catch up." Major Wells sat down in the command chair behind Malm. "How are you boys liking your first taste of battle?"

Dusel, still scanning for targets across the river, felt the adrenaline burn through his veins. He watched as more waves of TIE/sa bombers punished Chinese positions further inland across the river. He suddenly realized this is what being a trooper truly meant.

"I could get used to it." He lied.


	11. Loi Cas

SSN-784 _North Dakota_, Canadian Basin, Beaufort Sea, Arctic Ocean

"Captain, Sonar reports surface contacts." The Chief of the Boat reported.

The senior officer of the _Virginia_-class submarine looked up from where he and his executive officer had been trying to piece together garbled communications from the fighting thousands of miles to the south of them. "Keep us on silent running. XO, you have the comm. I'm heading over to sonar."

"Aye Aye, Sir."

The Captain moved quickly into the compartment next to his bridge. As far as he knew this vessel was one of the last of her kind after her sisters had been largely annihilated in the alien attack on his country's nuclear arsenal a little over a month ago. The _North Dakota_ had survived by going deep and keeping almost twenty meters of ice on top of them. Ever since that attack his sailors had done everything imaginable to reduce the nuclear signature of his boat's reactor and the ten MIRV nuclear missiles he had onboard. He had no idea if or when they would be able to surface and see the light of day again.

He reached the sonar compartment, "Chief Sanchez, what do we got? Another polar bear?"

The CPO turned to his Captain. The enlisted man's face looked as if he had seen a ghost. Several of his sailors manned the sonar equipment around them with matching looks of concern upon their faces in the red-lit compartment. "I don't think so, Sir. Not unless the bears have learned how to dig with heavy machinery."

"What do you mean?"

"We heard a loud thud about ten minutes ago. At first we thought that it could have just been some loose icebergs slamming into each other but it was quickly followed by heavy footfalls on the ice. Like you said, we weren't sure if it was a bear, a seal, or even a lost Eskimo."

"Go on." The Captain knew there shouldn't be anyone out this far on the ice this time of year, and to the best of his knowledge the boat hadn't been ordered to meet anyone.

"Well, it got wonky after that. Lots of scraping and a boring noise, all accompanied by what sounded like a large crab or lobster walking about, or at least several people."

"Captain, the digging noises have ended. We're just picking up ice noises now." One of the sailors reported.

The Captain went to the hatchway to the bridge, "Helm, take us down ten degree down bubble. Full speed." He felt himself start to lean as the _North Dakota_ dove for her minimum crush depth.

450 meters above, Arctic Polar Ice Cap surface

The young Imperial Army Engineer looked up from her Sonar Mapper as two nearby snowtroopers assisted the extraction of the KM1 mining droid from the column it had bored straight through the ice and into the frigid ocean below. Twenty meters of solid ice hadn't proved a challenge to the eight-legged droid, which was more accustomed to boring through much tougher rock and ore.

By the Emperor, it was cold here, she thought as she shivered inside her climate-controlled armor. She was thankful for the snowtrooper gear she had drawn for this mission. Only a year ago she had finished school and had enlisted on Mars, which was cold enough, but this place could freeze a Tauntaun.

She looked into the hole the droid had dug as pressure from below slowly filled it with salt water, then looked back at her sonar mapper emplaced on top of the ice. She checked and rechecked the movement of the target below. Two other snowtroopers stood guard over their nearby CK-6 Freeco swoops. Next to her equipment was the last member of their mission, curled up into a ball and downloading tracking data on their submersed enemy. An enemy that was suddenly cavitating rapidly.

She watched as its depth increased; evidently it had detected them. Not that it would do them much good, she thought with a smile. She pushed an activation button on her chest control pad and the last member of their team rolled forward into the watery hole and quickly disappeared in the depths.

Bridge, _North Dakota_

"Captain, we've got a single splash." The XO calmly shouted from the Sonar station.

"Depth charge?" The Captain asked.

"No, Sir."

"We're picking up cavitations." A sonarman reported.

"Flank speed. Launch counter-measures. Helm, take us to the Never Go Below depth, and bring us to starboard. Let's see if we can out-maneuver this thing."

"Sir, the weapon is tracking. Impact estimated in seventy seconds." The XO notified him. A digital clock above Navigation started counting down the time to estimated impact. The Captain swallowed hard as he began to sweat in the air-conditioned environment.

300 meters aft of the _North Dakota_

The droideka remained in its ball shape as it approached its target. Water pump-jet propulsion units attached to its flanks let it close the distance with the Earth submersible with every passing second.

Electronic counter-measures radiated outwards from the boat but the droid ignored them, its non-visual composite radiation sensors attracted to nothing but its target ahead. It had the enemy vessel in its sights now and had already stopped relying on targeting information from the engineer's sonar mapper.

One of the last Seperatist's weapons left over from the Clone Wars, it had been scheduled to undergo dismantlement for research into a new line of security droids when someone in _Tarkin's Fist_ had noted its particular usefulness in tracking down any underwater targets they had missed in their earlier attacks on the Earth's nuclear stockpiles. And so one lone survivor of a lost Seperatist cause dove the final fifty yards onto its target's hull.

It rolled to a stop, coming to an upright stance, its bronzium-armored legs sticking to the craft's hull. Its shield generator came to life as it extended its twin blaster cannons.

Bridge, _North Dakota_

"Ten seconds to impact!" The XO announced with growing alarm in his voice. "Five seconds!"

The Captain had tried every move he had been taught at Anapolis, and even some they didn't teach, but to no avail. The enemy weapon had continued to close on his boat. For a second he thought of his wife, of the lives of the young sailors around him. What had it all been for?

The count-down came to an end. "Captain, we've lost contact with the torpedo?" a small thud sounded from the hull.

"Was it a dud?" someone asked from the navigation.

"Captain, look at the aft photonic mast's feed." The Chief of the Boat directed him to the monitor showing the outside rear hull. Something was moving out there.

Aft Hull, _North Dakota_

The droideka moved like a crab along the surface of the hull, using reverse-repulserlifts to keep from being ripped from the side of the boat as the current threatened to pry it off.

The droideka raised its twin blasters at its chosen target. Its electronic AI sent the firing command and two blue bolts of superheated plasma vaporized the water they passed through before slamming into the boat's propeller.

Bridge, _North Dakota_

The boat gave a sudden lurch as propulsion came to a jerking stop. The Captain was still in shock from witnessing blue laser beams shoot from the robot on top of his submarine.

"Captain, we've lost all forward propulsion." The XO informed everyone within earshot.

Already the Captain could see the panicked expressions on his sailor's faces. He had no way to fight this thing; they were well below weapon launching depths. His only chance was to get some sailors out there with carbines and shotguns to fight this monster off.

"Push the dive planes all the way up. Blow our ballast tanks." His shouted orders got his sailors moving again. "Sonar, find us a thin spot in the ice. COB, prepare the boat for an emergency breach and impact. Weapons, get a team ready to repel boarders." That was an order he never expected to give.

Aft Hull, _North Dakota_

The droideka immediately noticed the change in pressure as the enemy vessel rose towards the surface. Its orders had been to follow the submersible into the depths below and confirm the kill.

Evidently, this earth boat played by a different set of rules. If it could adapt, so could the droideka. It spun around at its mid-torso and charged its blaster cannon once more. Once again blue plasma energy shot forth and impacted with the two massive dive planes on either side of the boat's tower. The twin blasts completely sheared off the port side dive plane, and heavily damaged the starboard.

The vessel continued to rise. The AI in the droideka only knew of one way to put an end to it. Its squat legs raced across the boat until it arrived at several circular hatches emitting low-level radiation. It pointed its blasters straight down at the deck. The twin blaster cannons fired again, and for one last Seperatist droid, the Clone Wars were finally over.

300 meters above, Arctic Polar Ice Cap

"Hey guys, the sonar mapper is picking up the boat is blowing its ballast tanks. I think they're trying to rise." The youthful technician excitedly informed the four snowtroopers. The Corporal in charge of their small detachment came over and looked at the equipment.

"Didn't the droideka sink it?" he asked.

"I'm still picking up the sound of blaster fire but the boat has definitely stopped cavitating." She told him as she concentrated on listening into the sonar mapper's headphones.

"Can they break through the ice?" The Snowtrooper NCO asked.

Before she could try to answer his question, her knees buckled. The ice cap felt as if it had suddenly been lifted up and then slammed down again. She put her arms out to protect her face as she fell forward, the sonar mapper falling over next to her.

She tried to stand again but the ice was shifting beneath her feet. The snowtroopers around her were trying to regain their balance as well.

"The ice is breaking up." One of them shouted the obvious. Someone else screamed, "Get to the swoops."

It was too late. The ice tore away right in front of them, swallowing the two snowtroopers guarding their vehicles. Fear took over as she was suddenly pitched to her right. The ice she was on angled steeply into the air and she was sent tumbling into a chasm that had suddenly opened up beneath her. "By the Emperor," she mutted. The teenage engineer was too petrified that she was going to hit the water underneath and freeze to death to utter another sound. But the two massive ice walls slammed back together before she made impact, saving her from her last worry.

**Southern bank Qiantang River, Xiaoshan, People's Republic of China, Earth**

Colonel Loi Cas of the People's Liberation Army sat on the front slope of his command tank watching engineers and sappers from a pioneer battalion try to span the river below with pontoon bridges. On the northern side, towards Shanghai, the city of Hangzhou burned furiously. The ancient city had been part of the alien bombardment's attempt to cut off Shanghai from the rest of the People's Republic, and so for the past twelve hours a murderous rain of green energy had slammed down in a ring around the metropolis.

Cas had awakened with the early morning bombardment in the city of Ningbo to the southeast. Within a few hours it had become evident that the Imperial aliens were destroying whatever cities they could find, but that Shanghai was being saved for something different. The generals in charge of the Nanjing Military District had ordered his Armored Regiment into the city.

It had been a long trip. The roads and highways had been clogged full of refugees fleeing south, and precision blasts from space had dropped every bridge and overpass leading into Shanghai. The over-sized, multi-purpose trucks hauling his tanks had to move aside several times for the tidal wave of humanity, even the _Guoanbu_, the State Security troops, couldn't hold them all back. He had ordered his thirty-seven tanks off-loaded and they had slowly started to grind forward. He had personally fired his tank commander's machine gun several times into the air to clear the road when the swarm had become too thick.

His column had become stretched out and intermingled with hundreds of other army units moving towards Shanghai, which was currently obscured by the massive walls of smoke and flames in front of them. Whenever he turned off his tank to let his column form up again, thunder rolled in from the north, caused by the thousands of explosions ringing Shanghai.

Communication was almost nil amongst the units moving to the front. The aliens jammed everything from radar to radios and their orbital bombardment had cut almost every landline into the city. Army couriers raced through the crowds on confiscated Harley Davidsons and Kawasaki Ninjas. Fortunately the presence of so many soldiers in the area discouraged any refugee from jumping one of the messengers and stealing their bikes.

The biggest natural obstacle to getting to the city had been the Qiantang River. The so-called 'Imperials' had dropped every span of bridge into its swirling waters early in their attack and pioneer units had had just as much trouble as everyone else in getting to where they were needed. Cas had waited for four hours for the engineering unit, currently pontooning the river in front of his, to arrive. Infantry units had confiscated almost every boat on the river and some patriotic boat captains had stayed and ferried the soldiers of China across. A nearby garbage scowl now hauled trucks and other lighter military vehicles across the river. Thousands of soldiers crowded the banks and waited their turn to cross the river as they were joined by new arrivals every hour.

When he had first arrived at the Qiantang, Cas had cornered a messenger returning from the northern bank and asked him what the ground was like ahead.

"A nightmare," the frightened courier had reported, "Everything burns. Soldiers and civilians alike. The infantry keeps going forward but only a few of them are making it into the city. The streets are covered with corpses and there isn't a single building in the blast zone still standing. In some places the ground is like melted glass."

"How's Shanghai?" Cas had asked.

"I haven't been that far in but from what I've heard it's pretty much untouched." The courier had then hurried to the rear with his message, as the waiting Armor officer remained with his gathering Chinese tankers. More and more heavy units backed up along the highway behind him throughout the day.

He didn't get his first close up view of the aliens until mid-day, when thousands of their smaller fighter craft appeared over Shanghai in the distance. Soon two of the strange craft were streaking over the river at an amazing speed. His anti-aircraft vehicles opened up on them. Too late, the alien fighters were already gone, slicing through a fleeing formation of five nearby Z-10 Attack Helicopters and sending four of them smashing to the earth in the blink of an eye. One of them crashed into the river near the pontoon bridge under construction.

The alien fighters circled the city in the distance as surviving Chinese planes retreated in every direction. Through the smoke he glanced out over the East China Sea. Thousands of tiny craft filled the horizon as the first waves of enemy soldiers pounced upon the Chinese port city.

He picked up his Austrian-made binoculars and turned his attention to the slow progress of the engineers below. Across the river the bombardment downpour that had cut Shanghai off from its neighbors slowed to a drizzle. Whistles and flares shot up from up and down the banks of the Qiantang, as thousands of PLA soldiers took to boats for their journey across the river. The pontoon bridge, designed to support his heavy T-99G tanks, was only halfway across. The infantry would have to wait for armor support.

A battery of 155 howitzers unlimbered from their trucks down the avenue from his position. Due to the heat of the day the artillery crews were stripped to their waists as they served their guns. They quickly fired a pair of rounds each towards the city. The gunners moved with a sense of urgency and their limbers sped off as soon as the guns and crews were loaded. The whole block suddenly erupted from strange energy explosions just as the trucks turned a distant corner. The enemy counter-battery fire was extremely quick and accurate, Cas realized, as plasma energized shot rained down on the nearby street, tossing and exploding cars and confused civilian refugees like bowling pins.

The enemy counter-battery fire lasted less than a minute but its effects were immediately evident. The road on his flank was now almost unusable to all but tracked vehicles, and buildings on both sides of the street slowly collapsed one after another. The commander of that artillery battery had been shrewd to get his men out of there as soon as he fired. Loi Cas made a mental note, to remember the enemy's efficiency when he met them in combat.

A motorbike messenger roared up to his tank and asked for Colonel Loi.

"That is me." Cas admitted he was who the courier was looking for.

"Your unit, Armor Brigade 3289, will be the first to cross the Qiantang at this particular crossing. Then you are ordered by General Ling to advance to holding positions on the west bank of the Haungpu, further north."

"Very well." Cas acknowledged the orders. He saluted the messenger before he turned back to the river to resume his watch of the pioneers working below. He was glad his orders were more specific than the ones he had first received earlier in the day when the Generals had just sent a short order for him to 'Defend Shanghai'.

He looked up to see hundreds of enemy fighters in control of the skies above them and then spit on the ground with disgust. He wondered if more Chinese pilots pulled ejector cords than pulled firing triggers. He winced when he spotted several WZ-10 attack helicopters moving through the thinning bombardment. He wished them luck; he figured they'd need it after the poor performance of their cousins in the jet fighters.

He looked over at his own gathering tank force and wondered if he shouldn't save some of that luck for himself. Equipped with older model Type 99KM armed with 155mm guns, these particular vehicles were almost thirty years old and designed to go toe to toe with western-style tanks. Not that he'd rather be in one of the newer Type 20s; too many bells and whistles in the newer model and not all of the gremlins had been worked out. No, the ones he served with now had worked well enough in Mongolia, Formosa, and Southeast Asia. His continued existence was proof enough of their abilities. His equipment aside, not knowing what the Imperial aliens would field against them was what worried him the most.

The pontoons edged towards the far bank. Further east down the river another bridge had already reached it and engineers signaled their completion with blue flares. Almost instantaneously an unending column of infantry started marching north across its span. Cas climbed onto the turret of his tank and crawled into the tank commander's hatch. Using arm signals he gave the start engine command to the tankers in his Brigade. His liquid-cooled, turbocharged, 1800 horsepower diesel chugged to life beneath him. He raised his binoculars and scanned for the flares announcing the completion of his designated bridge.

Upriver from his position he noticed a lumbering WS-2 Weishi rocket unit setting up its launchers. Without radar or GPS guidance the artillery unit evidently intended to fire their weapons unguided into the city. Well, it would kill somebody, Loi Cas figured.

"Hand me the signal flags." He asked his loader who was standing in the hatch next to his. The young private first class bent down into the tank and immediately returned with the two flags. Ever since the arrival of the enemy fleet in their solar system the year before, radio gear had increasingly become infrequent and undependable. To sidestep these inconsistencies the PLA had emphasized training in non-electrical communications, of the sort their ancestors would have used on battlefields of centuries past. For the mechanized units operating on a high speed, smoke-filled environment, flags had been chosen, since they could still be seen with thermal and night vision imaging.

The armor officer held his flags out and signaled to the heavy rocket artillery unit, warning them of the enemy's effective counter-battery fire. An enlisted man in the rocket unit signaled back that they were aware of it. The man stopped signaling and went back to his rockets without so much as a thank you. A moment later six 400mm rockets roared off their launcher heading towards Shanghai. Cas raised his binoculars and tried to follow their rapid movement. They were difficult to track, as there were already many explosions in the skies above the city, but he was pretty sure he recognized the instant the rockets died. Red colored 'lasers' arose from the Pudong District and sliced open the projectiles with an explosive, mid-air result. Effective anti-aircraft or anti-rocket units amongst the enemy forces, he figured.

He turned to watch the rockets load up into their trucks, but was amazed to see instead that they were in the process of loading another salvo into their launcher. He started waving the signal flags frantically, trying to warn them to get out of the area. The artillerymen ignored him. It was the last thing they ever did. More of the highly explosive plasma energy slammed down on the hapless rocket crews, impacting the munitions inside their rockets. The resulting explosion shredded a reconnaissance unit and dozens of infantry that had been closer to the rockets and sent one of the launchers high into the air. It finally crashed onto the far bank of the river.

"Fools." Cas spat out. Several hundred Chinese soldiers were now lost due to their arrogance. At least it taught him these aliens were not to be underestimated. Cas hoped other Chinese soldiers were learning that lesson as well.

Then it happened; a blue signal flare rose from the far bank. "Driver, move out." he ordered through the throat mikes attached to the tank's internal commo. He signaled the rest of the column with his laser communication system to follow him across the bridge. His loader emphasized the orders with the signal flags from the loader hatch.

His driver edged the hull of the fifty-eight ton vehicle onto the pontoons. Cas held his breath for a second and said a silent prayer to his ancestors for the pontoons to hold. The bridge dipped and swayed under the weight of the tank, but she held. He ordered the driver to go slow while crossing but to gun the engine when they got to the far side. The tanker did just that. The Type 99 made the far slope and Cas turned in the commander hatch to watch the rest of his tanks crossing one at a time across the makeshift bridge.

They crossed into the blast zone. The smoke was so thick that he ordered his crew to don their protective gas masks. His gunner and driver both switched to their thermal imaging systems, while he and his loader stayed upright in their hatch to scan for the enemy.

The landscape that met their eyes was like something out of a disaster movie. Not a single building remained standing. For several long stretches the ground was nothing more than steaming, molten glass. On street corners military police waved them onwards past piles of burnt corpses. Loi Cas wished the gas masks kept out the odor that filled his nostrils. Thousands of walking wounded, bandaged soldiers, and bloodied civilian alike stumbled along the edges of the road, traveling in the opposite direction of his column. Every minute or so a green laser bolt would reach down from space and slam into a nearby block and everyone would duck as debris rained down haphazardly. These casualties had only been veterans for a few hours and they had already been used up and rendered numb from the devastation around them. Cas wondered what one of those space-based lasers would do if it impacted his tank and then decided it was better not to think about it.

The refugees shouted to him through the smoke. "They have dragons."

"They are robot soldiers."

"If you shoot one he just gets up again."

"Shanghai is gone. All the buildings have collapsed."

Through breaks in the choking smoke he could barely recognize the famous Pudong skyline of Shanghai. His column of tanks crawled north through the wreckage of Hangzhou until they eventually reached the city of Jaixing, a suburb of Shanghai. The neighborhoods and streets were clear of debris. The alien starcraft had never targeted this close to the city. Unfortunately their land-based artillery had no such restraints and was tearing up dozens of formations of PLA soldiers moving forward. Here and there, quick moving Chinese artillery fire poured high-explosive shells at the distant enemy positions before limbering up and moving on before counter battery came roaring in. Loi Cas made sure to give a wide berth to any batteries of guns he saw.

The sun was already low in the western sky when he saw his first enemy. The military police were busy directing him into a defensive position along the west bank of the Haungpu. He ordered his tank into a hastily built prepared position as a soldier driving a civilian bulldozer dug out several more for his company's tanks. One of the tank crews on his right of his position fired an armor-piercing sabot round across the river. The cannon's roar snapped his head in that direction.

On the far bank stood two bipedal alien machines; that looked like skinny boxes on legs. The sabot glanced off one of the machines and continued on into Shanghai. The machine's head spun around in the direction of its attacker. Cas noticed the chin mounted gun too late to shout a warning to the endangered main battle tank. Blasts of red light shot across the river. Three rounds caught his sister tank in the turret an instant before three explosions ripped her apart from the inside. The alien fire had gone through her armor plates like hot steel through butter.

The two alien vehicles charged into the swirling water of the river, walking laser fire into his tanks as they took up their positions . Three more of his crews were killed as their tanks erupted. He ordered his own tank's crew to pour fire onto the attackers. The concentrated fire failed to penetrate the quick-moving enemy walkers but it must have shaken their crews up pretty well. Mid-river the walkers turned away from his position and ran towards the Longwulu Overpass Bridge, firing unaimed shots from their 'ear' cannons back towards his position. Several unlucky rounds chewed up the infantry taking up positions alongside his tanks.

The Longwulu Bridge was choked full of motor vehicles filled with civilians as well as hundreds of refugees on foot. The two strange alien vehicles splashed toward the crossing at full speed. Suddenly several explosions erupted at the base of the bridge's support towers, dropping several spans into the river. Screams could be heard up and down the riverfront as civilians and vehicles alike poured into the river from the crumbling bridge's roadway.

The two alien walkers stopped for a second then turned and raced back to the far bank, disappearing back into the city. One of them was clearly trailing smoke out of slits in its 'face' as well as moving with an awkward limp. Cas watched for several anxious moments before a metal popping sound came from one of the machine's legs. The alien vehicle toppled over into the river. It floated on the surface of the river for a few seconds as water slowly poured through the open view-slits in its 'face'. Cas squinted to see through the smoke of the battle and noticed two gray figures inside the machine frantically trying to release an escape hatch on the roof of the small walker. The machine slipped beneath the river's current as they struggled. No one came to the surface after that.

A few infantrymen alongside Cas's tank clapped but most of them frantically started to dig in to protect their bank of the Haungpu. The screams of dozens of refugees still clinging to the remains of the shattered bridge or being swept down river drowned out whatever celebration rose from his side.

"Colonel, those aliens didn't drop that bridge. That had to be our engineers." His gunner angrily announced over the comm.

"It couldn't be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Things would be a lot worse if they break out of the Pudong District."

"But, what about all those civilians...?"

"Keep scanning for targets, Gunner." Cas snapped, thankful his gas mask hid his own expression of hatred for those countrymen who had just murdered several hundred of their own people and trapped thousands more on the enemy-held side of the river. He scanned the wreckage of four of his own tanks and dozens of dead infantry around his position and realized that he still had plenty of hate left for the aliens as well.


	12. Kuat of Kuat

Oil Rig Gina, Santa Barbara Channel, Northwest of Target East

The seatrooper Lieutenant function-checked his blaster-speargun hybrid for the hundredth time since they had dropped out of orbit. He glanced one last time at the Aquatic Assault Troopers of his platoon as they sat huddled in the darkened interior of the AT-AT swimmer. The troopers were quiet and anxious as they contemplated the mission ahead of them. Only a few moments ago they had all been shaken by the impact of the massive aquatic vehicle on the ocean. And now as the immense fusion engine drove them forward through a choppy sea the movement lulled them back into silent meditation on the upcoming assault.

The crew chief of the swimmer signaled the go ahead and the Lieutenant climbed up one of several ladders inside the hull. He unlatched a hatch above him and was greeted by a bright moon overhead in the evening sky. He crawled out onto the back of the rapidly advancing swimmer and visualized the target ahead. The troopers of his platoon emerged from the hatch behind him to join him atop the cruising swimmer. The sea spray tried to blind his lenses as the swimmer cruised through the ocean at a little over twenty-five knots.

Here on the extreme northern flank of the invasion aimed at Target East, TIE boats raced ahead of the Aquatic Terrain Armored Transports as the swimmers deployed amphibions to carry the seatroopers closer to their goal. The Lieutenant jumped inside one of the armored boats with another fifteen of his troops. A bosun's mate propelled the assault craft forward, quickly putting space between itself and the AT-AT swimmer, which was to stay to the rear for heavy fire support duties. Scout troopers raced ahead on their one-man waveskimmers.

The only fire they received was small arm slugthrower fire from the tower ahead; most of the enemy forces had already been driven from the area or were busy dealing with the massive invasion currently landing to their south. According to the platoon's hyperwave radioman the transports of the invasion force were still receiving heavy anti-airspeeder fire from the target, a massive petrol mining facility named Gina.

Their amphibion was the first to reach one of the four pylons supporting the rig above the ocean. Two earthlings leaned over the railing above and poured slugs down at them. One of his troopers was hit in the chest armor and flung overboard; his comrades grabbed him and quickly pulled him back aboard. The trooper appeared shaken but otherwise alright as sharpshooters went to work dispatching the two antagonists above.

His two Quarren seatroopers, distinguished by their misshapen helmets, manned a fibercord grappling hook launcher from the bow of the boat. A whip-like noise sounded out as they fired the hooks into the railings above. His point-man was a Nautolan private-first class who scrambled up the fibercord like a kavorkian lizard monkey, his plastoid-wrapped tendrils swaying back and forth out the rear of his helmet as he climbed.

The Lieutenant was the second trooper over the railing. He joined the point-man in laying down covering fire for the rest of the squad as they climbed onto deck behind them. Five Terrans were busy serving a massive slugthower cannon pointed high into the sky as more of them returned small-arms fire from whatever cover they could find. The lieutenant watched in horror as the gun-crew slowly lowered the large calibre slugthrower in their direction. He glanced over at the Nautolan trooper and hand-signalled a short order.

Both of them pulled the pins on their thermal detonators and charged from their cover, launching the explosives ahead of them. A slug bounced hard off of his armor as they surged forward, the blasts from their blaster spear-gun hybrids slicing through the defensive cover of the abos. A few heartbeats later a stabbing throb shot from his shoulder indicating a possible broken collarbone. He bit his lip to fight off the on rush of pain.

Just as the slugthrower finally leveled in their direction the two thermal detonators exploded, decimating the slugthrower's crew and tipping the gun over onto its side, its barrel bent in an unnatural shape. The Lieutenant ducked behind refining machinery just as the Nautolan seatrooper pinned an earthling to a wall with an energized spear. The earthling's blood splashed across the faux-durasteel deck.

Seeing their anti-airspeeder slugthrower knocked out removed a lot of the fight left in the Terrans. One by one they threw their own weapons away and came out from behind their defensive cover. The prisoners kept their hands high as the seatroopers forced them to their knees and slapped a pair of stun cuffs on each of them. Several of the aquatic assault troopers rifled through the prisoners' gear for whatever plunder and souvenirs they could find.

Imperial Martian Army engineers boarded the rig and started placing detonation charges at key junctures on the facility as the seatroopers evacuated their prisoners to the waiting amphibions. The Lieutenant gingerly boarded the amphibion for the return trip to the AT-AT swimmer, minding his wound and glancing to the south to see thousands of airspeeders invading the smoky coast of Target East. Their contrails filled the starlit night sky as a bright moon lit up the shore to the east.

As they arrived at the swimmer several explosions tore through the rig behind him. He turned and watched as several other petrol rigs erupted on the horizon, sending flames and smoke into the sky while spewing their inky black oil onto the burning sea.

The Lieutenant smiled to himself despite his shoulder, pleased with the effortlessness with which his crew had completed their mission, and thankful this wasn't his planet that they were wrecking.

**Ares Vallis, 12 Kilometers north of Culter City, Mars**

Moff Kuantus Kuat of Kuat enjoyed the cool Martian breeze that blew in through the viewports of the massive Ubrikkian Luxury Sail Barge. The copper-colored repulsercraft gently sailed over the agri-combines that fed the approaching metropolis of Culter City. A Bith band's music drifted in from the upper deck of the massive repulsercraft. His host and the owner of this vessel, Moff Culter of the Anoat Sector, relaxed in a Kesslerite lounging chair across from Kuat's on the vessel's lower deck. Both Moffs were enjoying a glass of Chandrilan Blue '439. Their aides and entourages had found other duties to attend to on the upper deck while the two Moffs held their private discussion.

"I don't know why you'd like to warm Mars anymore my friend. On evenings such as this it can be quite pleasant." Kuat remarked. The Kuati Moff was offhandedly studying impact reports from the ongoing bombardment of Earth on his personal datapad. Culter was glancing at reports on his own device as well. With so much work to be done Kuat wondered why he had taken up Culter's offer of a late evening dinner aboard his luxuriant vessel.

"I agree, Kuantus. But this is our high summer. The winters here are still too harsh temperature wise for livestock and year-round agriculture. But with fluorocarbon production coming to full capacity we will have temperatures more concurrent with Coruscant, Kuat, or even the nearby Earth, within six martian months." Culter reassured his guest as he poured himself a refill of the rare vintage.

"How are your manpower problems?" Kuat asked.

"Stressed almost to the breaking point. I've even had to recall my exploratory mining teams on the moons of Earth 6. I wanted to capture a comet or more ice from the moons around Earth 5 to get a proper ocean going on Mars." Culter's shoulders slumped. Kuat felt genuine sympathy for his fellow Moff. When Grand Moff Tarkin had sent them into the maw he had no idea the monumental task that awaited _Tarkin's Fist_ at their final destination.

"Admiral Bacara has promised the delivery of the first prisoners inside of a week. That should alleviate some of the pressure." Kuat observed, though none of the expected Earth prisoners were slated to work in his orbiting driveyard. And thank the Emperor for that stroke of luck, he thought, because these Terrans were one of the most diseased species of near-humans he had ever come across.

"It will help some but my clone legion will still have to process and quarantine the Earthican prisoners before sending them here to Mars. Admiral Bacara has already set up a concentration base for that on their moon Luna. He has already launched the initial wave in Operation _Piper_ in their Pacific Ocean."

"I must admit I've been lax; what makes for an acceptable Terran prisoner?"

"Intelligence isn't necessary. Almost all prisoners will be shipped to mining bases and agri-combines far from Culter City, though many will be sent to that new hypermatter refinery being constructed on the other side of the planet. I assume that captured Earthican troopers and their general run of civilians should be perfect." Culter explained.

"What of the diseased?"

"An intense screening process is already in place. The Imperial...um wait they just changed their name...the Martian Medical Corps is helping out with that on the Earth's local moon. All Earth-borne disease carriers will be rejected, even those afflicted by the common fatal ones like cancer or heart disease will be sent back to Earth. I have orders directly from the Fleet Admiral that we're not to waste the resources on them. We're to reject he heavily wounded too, though I hear the Imperial, excuse me, the Martian Medical Corps has already filed a complaint on that point. They say it's in violation of their oaths or some other nonsense."

"Let the Terrans deal with their own problems, you're saying?" Kuat finished his second glass of wine.

"Exactly. Of course we'll be screening for pregnancy as well. These are highly desirable for 'Operation _Stork_' to kick off. Prisoners found in this condition will receive preferential treatment while in captivity." Culter spoke as if he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Kuat understood why, but what else were they to do if they were outnumbered eleven million to just over eight billion. Culter continued, "Have you heard about the population quota the Fleet Admiral has placed on all species?"

"Yes, they have to have at least a thousand members of their own species before they can enlist in the Stormtrooper Corps. Makes sense if they want to remain a viable species. Speaking of which, you keep better track of these things than I do, how are birth rates in Culter City?"

Culter laughed, "We seem to be having something of a baby boom lately. Human birth rates have remained steady but other species have skyrocketed. My own clone legion seems to have sired an entire Twilek or Zeltronian legion to replace them one day. We've also seen a surge in Kubaz, Whipid, Chadra-Fan, Rodian, Zabrak, Ithorian, well you name it and they've been breeding. Everything but Wookies and Hutts and that's only because we didn't bring any along with us. Live births have gone through the roof too, thanks to that surgery the earthling physician demonstrated for us. The man deserves his freedom for that, if nothing else."

"I've heard a special storm commando squad is abducting the man's wife in order to bring her here. I understand his children are already grown."

"That'll be a shock when those troopers crash through her front door. But I understand why he can't be allowed to return to Earth after everything he has seen."

Kuat grinned as the image took shape in his mind. The woman would be terrified out of her skull when armored stormtroopers came crashing through her doorway. Thinking of armor naturally turned his mind to some of his own projects. "The armor the troopers have been wearing is proving its weight in gold. My aides have informed me that there have been minimal casualties in the first waves at both target cities."

"You are too modest my friend," Culter prodded him, "I have heard that casualties on our side are well below even the most optimistic minimal casualty estimates. With the second and third waves due to arrive in both cities over the next day the Earthlings with be drowned in a sea of white armor."

"Green actually. Or gray-black depending on the individual trooper. Smart move by the Fleet Admiral to let the troops use Clone War era camouflage again." Kuat had felt the stress of the build-up to war, and was enjoying his talk with his fellow Moff, considering Culter was the closest thing he had to a peer in the Sol System. His terraforming friend had done such a wonderful job with tonight's seasonal climate that it would be a shame to waste it. "Do you mind if we get some air? Perhaps take our drinks up onto the top deck."

"Of course. I could use a chance to stretch my legs as well." Culter agreed as both men gathered up their drinks. Kuat gathered up his traditional white and blue Kuati headdress and placed it upon his graying temples. At only half a meter it was one of his shorter hats. A pair of armored bodyguards stood at the foot of the staircase that led to the deck above.

As they ascended to the uppermost deck the Moffs were greeted by the sight of the local sun Sol disappearing below the horizon. Overhead bright orange and red sails propelled the repulsercraft over the Martian landscape. Their aides bowed as they came up on deck and a steward came forth to refresh their glasses. To the south fireworks and laser lights erupted and flashed over the Martian capitol.

"Things must be going well against the Earthicans?" Culter wondered.

"It's still a little early for anything to be known, I would think. Only the first wave of troops has landed the last time I checked. The ones at Target East had to land in the dark even."

"Excuse my interuption, my Kuat of Kuat," His aide Niobe approached and bowed to both of the Imperial Governors, "I'm to inform you that commandos on Earth have succeeded in rescuing the Chief Ambassador."

"So 'Princess' Phasma is alive. That is quite a surprise considering the barbarity of these Earth-style near-humans." Kuat was more than a little pleased that the charming youngling officer was still amongst the living.

"She is undergoing debriefing by Fleet Intelligence but the _Quill_ is returning to Mars sometime late tonight with both members of the Yos family onboard. The Fleet Admiral has suspended the bombardment of Earth's cities except for the immediate areas around the two target zones, until tomorrow." Niobe informed the both of them. "I spoke with Admiral Hadrian aboard your flagship the _Kuat's Might_. He has been ordered to refill their tibanna stocks from the _Carbon_ and then they are to continue their bombardment against infrastructure and military targets sometime tomorrow morning."

"This could be a lucrative time to ask the Fleet Admiral of any profitable requests either of us may have." Culter suggested. Kuat couldn't agree more. However, the Fleet Admiral usually saw the wisdom behind, and gave into, any petitions he brought to him. Ever since the Ploo Moff had underhandedly stolen some of his best Bacta researchers away from him last year, the only things Kuat wanted were usually aimed at hindering the ambitions of the disgraceful Moff Seco, but it was probably forces under the nefarious Ploo Moff's command that had rescued the daughter of their Fleet Admiral.

"By the unplanned celebration in Culter City I would guess the HoloNews has already reported on Phasma's rescue."

"You could be right, Uredo," He used his fellow Moff's given name, "and what, may I ask, would you ask of our esteemed not-yet Martian Emperor?"

"I would strive for terraforming efforts near Earth 5 at the moment and maybe then the long term scouting mission to place a hyperspace beacon inside our closest neighboring star system could kick off a few weeks sooner. It would bring more planets under our domain that much quicker. We could do it, too. On sublight engines it would take a few years but by then, with new slave-labor, we could bring hypermatter production online. The first colony ship is almost ready for the mission to Earth 2. Plus one or two things I may have 'hidden up my sleeve' as the Sabbac players say."

Kuat wondered what the Anoat Moff was hiding. Besides knowing everything there was to know about terraforming there wasn't much to the forgetable Moff Culter. Did his colleague already have terraformers working on Earth 5 or 6, had he found a new source of tibanna, or did he possess a Star Destroyer full of hypermatter or an army of cloned workers secreted away in some clandestine corner of Mars? Maybe while everyone else was forgetting about Moff Culter Kuat would be wise to pay a little more attention to the workings of his friend. As the saying went 'You attract more Doppleflies with honeyblossems than Bantha manure'.

"Excellent, as do I." Kuat winked, "With skilled labor for my dockyards being freed up by your ingenious idea of utilizing Terran slaves here on Mars the new line of star destroyers we are designing could be at the vanguard of our conquest of this galaxy over the course of the next century. If only I knew where to hire even more Imperial workers?" Kuat baited.

"I...um wish I knew. I really do." The Anoat Muff was anything but convincing. Yes Kuat decided, Culter was certainly hiding something up his sleeve. Clones; if Kuat had to make a guess.

"What about the present? Anything that's been vexing you at the present?" Culter steered the conversation away from its present course while he led the two of them to a railing where they placed their empty glasses. A serving droid quickly replaced both empty flutes with new ones. Kuat smiled at the rushing Martian ground as the red soil whizzed by. He had been doing business for a long time and knew when not to push a skittish buyer too hard.

"We're looking into designing a new turret system designed for orbital bombardment. The current turbolasers on the star destroyers are much too powerful for the job. On usual settings the things fire at a power level of 200 gigatons, which is enough to crack the crust on most planets. As it is we're firing on minimal levels during our current bombardment. It's nerve-wracking work for the crews. I'm thinking we need some type of designated bombardment barge-craft or perhaps a newly designed updated Torpedo Sphere. It's a project that's still on the drawing boards." Kuat sighed. There simply wasn't enough time in the day to get everything done.

"Then of course there are the two Alderaanian shield arrays that had to be designed and built for the invasion. That was a rush job but I'm proud to say we didn't have to cut any corners in their production. How about yourself?"

"Ah, to clone or not to clone, that is the question." Kuat made a strange face at the odd quote. Culter chuckled, "Sorry, a reference to an Earthican author I stumbled across in my research with their primitive HoloNet."

"I see." Kuat was amazed the Terrans could write, let alone create poetry or philosophy.

"When we first landed on Mars our being-power problems were quite evident. Several companies approached us about cloning multiple alien species into a viable labor force. As you can imagine, with high command made up of officers that still bear the scars of the Clone War, this was an unpopular choice."

"I can imagine. Plus the technological resources diverted to such a project would far outweigh its gains." Kuat observed. "You would need a workforce at least as big as a stormtrooper legion just to produce the amount of clones we need, and another legion of workers to train them over the course of the next decade at the very least."

"Precisely. Though there have been rumors that a few companies may have gotten further in their planning than others. No proof of any actual cloning so far, but a few tests were done. Cloning should be reserved for colonization efforts, not forming a slave labor force out of our own beings."

"Despicable." Kuat said without much conviction as he took a slow sip of his wine and nonchalantly watched the firework display. Not that he truly cared about cloning one way or another he just hoped Culter would further confide in him. "Thank the Emperor that we have a nice clean war to divert us from such dirty deeds."

Culter however didn't raise to the dianoga bait and Kuat noticed how his colleague tried to steer the conversation away from any juicy revelations. "Then I had to find a solution to the food surplus issue. At first our own galaxy's crops were thought to not be able to take in the Martian soil due to its high potassium content. So we put quite an effort into cloning Earth crops. But our own crops are going like podracers. We have Bristlemelons, Hubba Gourds, Podpoppers, Feen, Pika, you name it. The cloned earth crops aren't doing so well with our seasons. Strange thing is that our food doesn't seem to absorb any potassium from the soil but the Earthicans need it to survive, as we found out from those 'astronauts' we captured here on our arrival."

"So you're saying that you have to keep growing their inferior crops if you want to get any labor out of them? Hopefully 'Project _Stork_' will wean them off of their dependency some day." Kuat offered.

The sail barge turned as it cruised over the Yos River in the last part of its journey into the city, passing less than a meter over the gentle waterway. The large river was a quarter kilometer wide as it flowed through the center of Culter City. A cooling mist sprayed over the deck and nearby fireworks lit the sails above them.

"Believe me, my researchers are already looking into it. We think we made have already found the solution in _Stork_." Culter said. "Their livestock animals are just as bad. The earth's main animal for consumption is the cattle or cow; I'm not sure what the correct nomenclature is. This poor dumb beast eats five times more than a nerf and is roughly the same size. For every pig they have you can raise two banthas or a herd of eopies. That's almost fifty times the amount of meat." Culter tried his best not to sound incredulous but his best wasn't good enough.

Kuat did his best to appear to be watching his aides as they enjoyed the show above with several other courtiers nearby. They had entered Culter City and already thousands of revelers lined the banks of the urban center in their celebrations. Both Moffs waved from the railing at the beings who recognized the two Imperial Governors. A large, balloon-like airspeeder displayed live coverage of the Chief Ambassador on its flanks as it cruised through the fireworks. The beings cheered even louder and Kuat heard chants of, 'Princess Phasma, Princess Phasma' coming from the excited crowds.

"Things are certainly different in this galaxy." He smiled at Culter and raised his glass, "I fear our time as 'Imperial' Governors may be coming to a close."

"That's alright. Martian Moff has a nice ring to it." Culter joked. "I wonder why we're not getting any labor out of these beings." The Anoat Moff pointed to the revelers.

"We probably are, with salaries being as high as they are right now. We should at least give them a night to celebrate."

"As long as they're back on the factory floor tomorrow, right?" Culter was starting to show a little wear from the alcohol as he leaned on both elbows along the railing to watch party ashore. "We've got to win this war, you know," he pointed at the crowds of Martians along the riverbank, "For them."

"No, my friend, you don't understand. We've got to win this war," He pointed toward a distant green planet shining like a star in the night sky, "because it's either us or them."


	13. Cody

_Carbon_, Imperial Navy Refining Vessel, Geosynchronous Orbit over Luna Moon

There's a long line at the pump, the Captain of the _Carbon _thought as he stared at the twenty Star Destroyers stretched out in front of his vessel. "Well, it certainly looks like our dance card is full." He remarked to his executive officer standing alongside him on the bridge.

"It certainly appears so, Sir." Both officers were watching a team of engineers maneuver high pressure vacuum hoses between their ship and Moff Seco's Flagship the _Wilderness. _The Moff's flagship had run her tibanna bunkers dry plastering cities on the main continental mass to rubble. A twelve hour, continuous low-powered bombardment had taxed the supplies of most of the turbolasers of the fleet. Now only the star destroyers around Target East and West remained to give support to the first waves of stormtroopers on the enemy world, and they were scheduled to return and fill up once they had been relieved by the warships lined up in front of the _Carbon_.

It was with no small amount of pride that the Captain knew he commanded the most valuable vessel in _Tarkin's Fist_. After the events of the 'big jump', her refining equipment had fed the big engines of the fleet and kept _Tarkin's Fist _alive. Now most of her heavy equipment had been transferred to the surface of Mars in anticipation of Earth slaves that would kick-start a much larger fuel-refining program that would rival even the Peragus Mining Facilty back in the Home Galaxy. Both Moff Culter and the Fleet Admiral had offered him part ownership in the facility and most of his crew had snatched up stock options from the new MarsCopolis Stock Exchange.

For the bombardment of Earth, however, the _Carbon _was nothing but a huge gas-hauling platform with enough tibanna to refit the fleet twice. "Or start a supernova..." the Captain muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me, Sir" The XO asked.

"Um, nothing, just thinking aloud. Are the other Captains saying anything about the _Wilderness_ cutting in line?" Moff Seco had demanded that his flagship take on tibanna first, and then had caused a two hour delay while getting into place.

"If they are, they're keeping it to themselves. What can they really do, when it's the Theater Commander, and a Moff to boot, doing the cutting in."

The Captain did some quick calculations in his head and said "True enough, but he also pushed the support vessels for Operation _Piper _to the rear of the line. I doubt we'll get to them before the deadline for them to be on station passes."

"Yes, Sir, but those troopers, just as we do, come from Moff Culter's Anoat Sector Fleet." The executive officer hinted.

The Captain grimaced at the implication, "You think Seco might be out to bleed them a little? Clones aren't exactly replaceable, unlike Seco's stormtroopers."

"It's not like the esteemed Moff has any great love of clonetroopers. I wonder how their older equipment will fare in battle with the Terrans?"

"It's pretty old stuff. Most of it was left over from the Clone War but it should do fine against slugthrowers for the Emperor's sake. Plus their infantry has the new armor systems just like everybody else. Fleet Admiral Yos, unlike our Theater Commander, knows what he's doing."

Both men stared at their monitors as precious tibanna, mined from Earth 5, transferred to Seco's flagship. The Captain stared at the star destroyer's bridge next to his vessel, and imagined that the Ploo Moff was staring right at him and his XO, as if he had heard their speculative conversation. He shuddered.

"Let's get back to work. The faster we do our duty, the faster this miserable little war is won." Both men returned to their duties as tibanna flowed into the heavy blasters of the fleet.

**Mokulele Highway 350, Maui, NAU, Earth**

Things were not going according to plan. But then again, Marshal Commander Cody thought, how many plans actually survived contact with the enemy. At least that's how things had usually played out in the Clone War. As a Clone Marshal Commander he had been trained to deal with life's little 'setbacks'.

Cody was currently dealing with one of those 'setbacks' as he leaned against the side of his PX-4 Mobile Command Base parked on the shoulder of the local roadway. His stormtrooper bucket, painted in a tropical camouflage pattern, was tucked under his arm as he spoke to the blue HoloImage of Clone Admiral Bacara rising from the imager in his palm. The darkened roadway was lit by the full moon and thousands of stars above. If you knew where to look you could see the hundreds of support vessels of _Tarkin's Fist_ in low orbit above, and Cody knew where to look.

His command staff stood on guard around his command track, somewhere outside the city of Kahului, watching several large hotels burn to the ground in the distance while they grinned and sampled the delicious local pineapple. Cody had tried the fruit himself and had decided that it might be the one good thing that had come from the invasion. He, too, stared unimpressed at the distant conflagration; he had known bigger during the Clone Wars.

It had taken half a legion an hour to conquer the small Earth town.

Throughout the night it had taken two Clone Legions almost two hours to secure every island in the Hawaiian chain except Oahu, but nobody was bragging about it. Cody knew why, too; there hadn't been any fight in the Earthlings. His gaze fell upon the three bound earthlings on their knees nearby. They appeared to be two police officers and a man in some type of camouflaged uniform that identified him as a member of some local militia known as the Hawaii National Guard.

CC-2224 stretched his legs a bit, as they had gotten cramped during the endless waiting and circling the invasion force had undergone while in low-orbit above. They never would have cramped up during the last war. But he reminded himself that he had aged twenty years in the past decade since the conclusion of the Clone Wars. He wasn't the newly decanted clone he once was.

This war wasn't the same as the Clone War. Not by a long shot. So far nothing he had seen amounted to the terror of facing hundreds of ranks of clankers bearing down on you. Compared to that, the invasion of Hawaii almost seemed like a. . . vacation.

His thoughts flashed back to the low-light interiors of the hundreds of MAAT/i that had carried his troopers into combat once again. The new landers were upgraded from the old workhorse of the Clone War; the LAAT/i. Through the pilot's viewports he had watched as had watched for hours as the Empire had punished the enemy with the demoralizing orbital bombardment. He hadn't been moved by all the death and destruction because he had seen it too many times before on a dozen other planets. He had watched on his MAAT/i's sub-space radar as the first waves of stormtroopers were launched at Targets East and West while daylight still warmed those opposite sides of the large ocean below, but it wasn't until darkness had fallen that Clone Admiral Bacara had finally received the go ahead for Operation _Piper_ to commence.

They had dropped on their Pacific Ocean target like hunting hawkbats. With ARC-170s providing an overhead fighter cap, V-19 Torrents had led the way. The unlit island chain stood out against the moonlit ocean. On one of the central islands the city of Honolulu burned as a result of a short bombardment leveled on it earlier in the day. And within the fire burned most of the defensive capabilities of the Hawaiian State.

The squadrons of Torrents had engaged the dozen airspeeders that rose to oppose them. Cody couldn't see the air battle but had watched it on his MAAT/i's battle Holoprojecter; the dogfight was over in a matter of seconds. His Clone brothers had leaned their buckets out of the open doors of the MAAT/i, trying to pick out each of the dozen funeral pyres of the last of Hawaii's airspeeders. He smiled when he realized that every clone pilot in those escorting Torrents had remained in flight. Without commo or radar the enemy airspeeders had been easy pickings for them in the night.

The hundreds of MAAT/i and various shuttles had slowed while dozens of Torrents dove for the surrounding seas. The gunners aboard his own shuttle had taken careful aim at targets passing below their craft. As they had advanced on their target, the night was lit again as thousands of blaster bolts ripped into the ocean below. But they hadn't been firing blindly into the water itself. Earthican fishing trawlers, houseboats, cruise ships, cargo vessels, and even a few small naval destroyers that had been missed by the orbital bombardment had erupted into flame or were quickly punctured and sent to the bottom as the clone invasion force swept overhead. Thousands of sailors and fisherman had suddenly found themselves adrift after fleeing land that morning for the perceived safety of life at sea. Some saw the burning city of Honolulu and attempted to swim in that direction. Others had made the acquaintance of hungrier residents of Hawaii's coastal waters.

"Air and Seas are clear, Commander." Reported the clone manning the sub-space radar unit.

"Alert all Commands." Bacara's voice had cut across his 212th Attack Legion's operations channel. "Operation _Piper Alpha_ is Jedi Sword. I repeat Jedi Sword. All Commanders verify."

Cody had instantly recognized the go-code for the mission; there was no turning back then. He had keyed the transmitter in his helmet with a flick of his eyelid at one of the icons in his bucket's HUD. "Cody is LightSaber, repeat Cody is Lightsaber." He responded. The code word had been chosen because no earthling should have ever heard of a lightsaber, let alone a Jedi. For Cody it just served as a reminder of his failure years ago on Utapau.

"Roger roger, good hunting, CC-2224." Bacara had answered.

He had nodded to the pilot of the MAAT/i as the clone shoved the flight-control stick forward, tilting the craft's nose downwards as it dove towards the target below: an island named Maui. Cody had switched his electrobinoculars to night-viewer mode and watched over the helmets of the flight crew as the formations of troop carriers split up and headed towards their objectives. The 212th banked their craft and headed to the south, away from the pyre that had once been called Honolulu.

Within moments the MAAT/i had dropped to two hundred meters off of the deck and was hurling itself at almost breakneck speed towards the lush island ahead. The smell of jungle and salt water permeated the craft as it dropped in altitude. Each clonetrooper in his command platoon had gone through their own last minute check or ritual to prepare themselves for the imminent combat that surely awaited them. Cody had quickly made sure his own DC-15S Blaster Carbine was locked and loaded before he signaled the 212th into the attack.

None of the mysterious slugthrower flak had risen to meet the first flights of Torrents and Alpha-3 Nimbus-class starfighters loaded with heavy proton bombs. His own MAAT/i had been just crossing the last breakers and passed over the beaches of Maui to the north of the city of Kahului when simultaneous guided-proton bomb attacks destroyed the tropical city's marina, police headquarters, telephone exchange, National Guard armory, and county courthouse. His own MAAT/i gunners had decimated the island's power station and radar and communication towers as the first of his troop carriers had touched down in the suburbs and farmlands surrounding the small city. The lights of the city flickered on and off before finally sputtering out and leaving the city bathed in moonlight.

Cody had moved to the open cargo bay door of his MAAT/i as it rushed over the streets of Kahului. He had stood and held onto the hand grip at the lip of the door. The warm tropical air rushed by and he noticed the local inhabitants pausing in the yards and roads below to stare up at his transport, cruising by just fifty meters overhead. The enemy non-combatants below had screamed and pointed at the hundreds of landing craft racing above them. A few of them had been smart enough to start running for the nearby countryside. The not so smart ones, well. . . He had frowned when his ears picked up the strange rapport of a single slugthrower over the whine of the MAAT/i's engines.

He had ordered his gunners to hold fire as they passed over the population center. A block to his port side a strange landspeeder with swirling lights disgorged two uniformed Earthlings, both of which immediately engaged a passing MAAT/c with small-caliber slugthrowers. The MAAT/c gunners had been instructed to fire in defense only over the city and one of the transport's door gunners had acted on those orders. His heavy E-WEB chewed up the pavement to the front of the landspeeder before impacting with its fuel tank. The resulting explosion shredded the two earthlings. The MAAT/c charged ahead towards the designated landing zone.

Cody's MAAT/i had lightly touched down in a sugar cane field outside of the town. He had been the first clone out the door, followed quickly by the troopers making up his headquarters section. Aides and junior officers rushed up and asked for confirmation of their orders. A secure perimeter was established within seconds by the first wave of veteran infantry.

Within three minutes of his own landing, MAAT/c had already unloaded two platoons of heavy AT-TE's which had then started their slow lumber towards the still awakening Kahului. Several companies of armored clonetroopers had followed in their wake.

A Forward Air Controller had guided a MAAT/c carrying his PX-4 Mobile Command Base right next to his position. His HQ section quickly boarded the tracked carrier and followed the attack into the city. Inside the vehicle, Cody had removed his bucket and watched the unfolding attack on the HoloMaps and hyperspace radio systems of the command vehicle. His own men were so well trained they hardly had had to ask him for confirmations of orders as they sent the troopers of the 212th into action.

Cody's troopers had pretty much had their own way with the city. Here and there the local police force tried to set up a roadblock or a handful of locals with slugthrower rifles had tried to hold a home or two as if they were bunkers. Cody had ordered Clone Blazetroopers and Flametroopers to reduce those targets. While ordinary clonetroopers had provided suppression fire, the flamethrower-armed clones had approached from the homes' flanks and spit their flaming liquid onto their targets. The screams of the burning defenders quickly diminished any remaining fight in the locals.

His AT-TEs had reached the beach twenty minutes after the attack had begun. His own troopers had reported only minor amounts of wounded clones in the attack, while the final tally had been just under thirty earthlings killed in the short engagement. Soon hundreds of earthlings had come into the streets with their hands held high. His clones had had to risk exposure and operational security in rounding them all up but there simply wasn't any fight left in these Earthlings. Several of them sneered at Cody as they were marched past his PX-4.

"Wait till you get to Oahu, that's where all our soldiers are!"

"If we had more guns you wouldn't have beat us!"

"You're going to get your butts kicked out of Upper California too!" They shouted and threatened, but Cody had heard even more of them whispering that they were just thankful to be alive. Cody had a hunch that war had never reached this part of their planet.

Clones went from house to house pulling out the hidden inhabitants and slapping binders on them before forcing them into the marching procession back to the landing zone, where _Sentinel_ shuttles belonging to Operation _Piper_ awaited them. In a few places the inhabitants still resisted but a blaster butt to the head usually encouraged them to cease any further resistance.

During the round-up several wounded and hurt Earthlings were been treated with minor first aid in a yard near his track. His orders had been specific on this matter. The wounded Earthlings would be bound so they couldn't do any damage while his troopers were here but they were to be left behind. The Empire didn't have the resources to care for wounded and damaged slaves. He had turned a blind eye to his few medics who chose to turn a blind eye to the Imperial order.

A battery of AT-APs had started firing long-range artillery at Pu'u Kukui, one of the nearby shield volcanoes. A jungle-camouflaged scout trooper had pulled up to his PX-4 on a BARC speederbike. "Marshal Cody, several thousand refugees are making for the mountains. Shall I order my men to pursue?" The clone officer had asked.

Cody had checked his chromo. The attack on the _Piper Omega_ target was scheduled to go in at dawn. "No, Captain. Form a perimeter to guard against any probes or counter-attacks coming from those hills but we've already bagged almost thirty thousand prisoners from here and the other towns on the island. We've done what we came for. Get your troopers ready for action in the morning." The scout trooper captain had saluted and raced away on his speederbike.

Cody had gone back to checking on the status of the rest of the attack. His own 212th had simultaneously secured the smaller towns on Maui of Wailuka, Lahaina, Kula, Ha'iku, Hana, Kihei, and Kapalua. Within an hour mop-up operations in those towns had bagged several thousand prisoners who were now being forcibly marched or transported to the landing sites. The Hyperspace radio and comset of the PX-4 reported the capture of other Hawaiian towns. Lihue and Kailua had both fallen without a fight to Clone Commander Salvo's 32nd Air Combat Wing, but at Hilo on the big island to the southeast there was a large National Guard force that had been providing aide for refugees fleeing the attack on Honolulu earlier in the day. The fight had been bitter, and because of time constraints Clone Admiral Bacara had ordered the abandonment of the Hawaiian city. Marshal Gett's Sarlaac Legion had razed the city to the ground as they pulled out. Given another few hours the fight would have been theirs but Cody had known they had bigger fish to fry.

Each of their assaults had been staging attacks, either to set up assembly areas for the attack on _Piper Omega _or draw out counter-attacks in order to bleed the defenders of the NAU's Pacific Base. An earlier orbital bombardment had demolished Honolulu but another attack by three _Acclamators_ was scheduled to commence at dawn. And then the three legions of Operation _Piper_ would attack. Overwhelming technology and firepower on the part of the 212th would settle the issue and hopefully they would have their biggest catch right at the start of _Piper_.

Cody looked back at that optimistic thought from a few hours ago in growing frustration as he stood along the highway eating his pineapple. His mind was now thoroughly focused on the present. The last of the aboriginal prisoners were finally being loaded onto the remaining _Sentinels_ in the field in front of his position. The sky was slowly turning gray and purple in the east.

CC-2224 silently contemplated his new dilemma. He was about to send his boys into _Piper Omega_ with no orbital support. One after another the three designated star destroyers for Operation _Piper:_ the _Battle of Qalydon_, the _Pressure_, and the _Kuat's Storm_ had all reported that they wouldn't be on station on time. Evidently something had gone wrong at the _Carbon_ refinery vessel and the three warships wouldn't be resupplied with their tibanna stocks in time.

Now the chromo was ticking down. Clone Admiral Bacara had advocated that the mission be delayed or scrubbed all together but the Theater Commander Moff Seco had insisted that the attack go on as planned. With Fleet Admiral Yos on his way back to Mars with his newly rescued daughter there wasn't anyone to overrule his orders. And if there was one thing clonetroopers were good at it was following orders, Cody thought with a shudder as he remembered a hot day on Utapau over a decade ago when he had been ordered to shoot his general in the back.

At dawn the 212th Legion would attack.

"Commander!" one of his officers got his attention. "Another rocket attack from Oahu incoming. ETA is two minutes."

"Fierfek, another useless cruise missile?" He hoped. Already four so-called 'Tomahawk' Missiles had been launched from the vicinity of the as-yet-unoccupied, enemy-held island. Three of them had been jammed by his Electronic Signals Warfare and SIGINT troopers and had smashed violently into the seas around Maui. The fourth had been intercepted by a V-19 Torrent off the coast of Kahului, which had resulted in a huge fireball about an hour earlier.

"No Sir, MLRS again." The Sub-Space Radar man informed him. Cody placed his helmet back onto his head.

"E Chu Ta! Everyone in the ditch!" He pointed to the side of the roadway as the troopers of his headquarters flung themselves flat in the muddy ditch alongside the roadway. The driver and the crew of the PX-4 climbed out of their vehicle and quickly joined them. The only vehicles still moving were four AT-AA that lumbered into position to engage the incoming rocket attack.

The Earthlings had learned to strike back quickly. As far as Cody could tell they had about six of the rocket-laden vehicles moving rapidly around Oahu. Their first attacks started sometime after midnight using highly sophisticated guided munitions. His SIGINT and ESW troopers had no problem jamming them or even tracking them with their Anti-Airspeeder heavy turbolasers. So after several failed attacks the enemy tried a new trick. Using Shoot-n-Scoot tactics the Earthlings started launching dumb rockets blasted like a flachette launcher from island to island. With no electronic guidance for his Signal officers to jam it was up to the skills of his AA-troopers in their four legged AT-AAs to knock out the rockets.

Cody helped the last of his troopers move the three prisoners into the trench with them before the attack came in. Already two of his AT-AAs were throwing up a protective curtain of plasma. Not that it was anything more than bad luck for one of the rockets to hit the Marshall Commander. The enemy on Oahu had no idea where on Maui he and his troopers were located. With no guidance the incoming rockets were no more useful than area suppression weapons, though quite terrifying and effective if you were in the area they were suppressing. The burning hotel behind them testified to the effectiveness of an earlier attack.

From the landing zone, one of his last AV-7 artillery cannons returned counter-battery towards Oahu in the hope that it would catch the launcher lingering at its launch site. Cody knew that was a small hope after the regularity of the attacks throughout the dark hours of early morning. Several small explosions erupted in the night sky as lucky hits by his AA contacted with a few of the incoming rockets, followed by a popping sound as the surviving weapons broke apart to release their sub-munitions.

Cody breathed a sigh of relief when he realized their trajectory was aimed at an impact zone still within Kahului. Several blocks of empty homes and businesses erupted in massive explosions as a small shockwave rippled over the island. His troopers picked themselves up and brushed the mud off their armor before continuing with the loading process. Cody suddenly had an idea.

Calling his staff officers to him, they boarded the PX-4 and studied the HoloMap projector. Cody rapidly outlined his plan. "Get all the artie blasters we have and start hitting them right here." He pointed at the 3D image of Piper Omega. "And then at dawn we're going to hit them here." His finger moved slightly to the west.

Around him several clones nodded in agreement, while others were already issuing orders over their hyperspace radios to their commands. The landing zone became a flurry of activity as his orders were obeyed.

Cody stepped back outside the moblie command center just as several returning MAAT/c dropped off batteries of AV-7s, UT-ATs, and SPHA-Ms. Within ten minutes a designated area of Honolulu with the pretty name of Pearl Harbor was being plastered by Imperial munitions. SigInt troopers soon informed him that the defenders were moving their troopers into the area and digging in. The last of the 212th Attack Legion loaded up on their MAAT/i.

He watched as the three captives were led aboard the remaining _Sentinel_ shuttle with the last prisoners his troopers had managed to capture. He hoped the base on the moon was ready to receive them all. Distant thuds and crashes rocked the island. Already delayed demolitions left by his men were erupting across Maui's infrastructure and power stations to further deny their use to any returning earthlings. Cody smiled at the destruction caused by his troopers.

The earthlings were never going to suspect a dawn attack on Honolulu.


	14. Ashla Ti

96,000 ft above Nevada, NAU, Edge of Imperial Occupied Space

The cockpit of the spyplane held enough controls to pilot one of the Orion space shuttles, leaving the two officers onboard little room to move. The crewmen had trained in secrecy for this one reconnaissance mission for almost the entirety of their careers in the Air Force. That intense training regimen allowed them to effortlessly monitor the hundreds of state-of-the-art and next generation instruments that controlled their aircraft.

At the moment they were at a cruising speed of Mach 4.3 heading for the spot where they would line up their run on their target. Northern Nevada and then Northern Upper California flashed by far below. At their altitude the curvature of the Earth cut a distinct line against the darkness of space. Both pilots tried to push aside thoughts that this might be the last time they ever saw it and concentrated on the mission ahead.

Their supersonic spyplane was the descendent of the old SR-71 Blackbirds and the ancient Lockheed U-2s that had been the backbone of the old United States Air Force's aerial recon squadrons. Combined with the technology of the black projects of the Aurora, BlackStar, and TR-3A Black Manta programs their aircraft was the most advanced piece of technology the Earth had ever put up into the air.

Pushed by twin engines that burned through gallons of liquid methane every few seconds the plane started its long banking curve to the south. That simple maneuver took another two hundred miles out of their flight plan.

The spycraft had been sent on its mission out of desperation from higher command. The aliens invading their world had destroyed every last one of Earth's satellites before launching their attack. The Air Forces of the NAU had been spread thin in an effort to defend the most vital regions of the continent. No one knew where an orbital enemy would come to ground, and the enemy fleet had made sure that the NAU would remain in the dark about the invasion with their superior jamming and electronic signal warfare.

When reports came in that it appeared the aliens were going to land in Los Angeles fighter squadrons in the area reported almost total loss of all their communication abilities. Radar and weapon guidance systems had been jammed out of existence. While they had been dealing with that thousands of alien fighters had fallen upon them, quickly clearing the skies around the alien landing zones.

Reports from the soldiers on the ground hadn't been much better. They had been horribly mauled while moving into the city. The army had barely begun to dig in when a devastating barrage of what was rumored to be mini-nukes had been dropped on the frontline formations moving into position in the beach communities of LA. After that, communications with the units involved in the ground battle had been sketchy at best. Predator IIIs and other UAV drones had casually been swatted from the skies by the enemy fighter cap over the city. Rumors of alien soldiers landing during the night and reports of a retreat filtered back to the generals outside of the battlezone. Now those generals needed answers if they were going to defend their planet. The two spyplane crewmen were going to attempt to give them some.

The pilot in his high-pressure space suit slowly turned his upper body to look to the north and activated side scanning radar on a diamond-shaped alien craft over San Francisco. He wondered if his systems, advanced as they were, would cut through the alien jamming.

The co-pilot had been monitoring the intelligence gathering equipment in relative silence, but something had changed"Signal interference is clearing." He said, sounding surprised.

"Odd." The pilot looked to his own monitors as the guidance computer and map-of the-earth systems suddenly burned through the alien signal-warfare. He had feared he would have to guide the slick craft through its target run by his own dead-reckoning. "Are they ignoring us?"

"No way! Ten bogeys on our tail coming up fast." The co-pilot reported. The pilot looked at the radar. Sure enough ten alien craft were lining up on his six and approaching at an unheard of speed. In no time flat they were on his tail. Yet they held their fire.

On their wing a white and red 'X' shaped craft suddenly appeared. The alien fighter had a pair of cannons mounted on the tips of its central wings and matched their speed with ease. The spyplane's pilot counted three alien crew aboard the Imperial fighter, including one that faced backwards like an old World War II tail gunner.

"I think they're looking us over." The pilot said.

"Getting strange readings off of something around their hull. If I didn't know any better I'd swear they had a forcefield around their spaceplane." The co-pilot said. Their own plane didn't mount a single weapon other than its cameras. A space battle with these 'X' fighters would have been short and decidedly non-sweet for the two NAU pilots.

"They're not firing because they know what we are. I think they want us to see what we came up here to see."

"Cocky assholes. If they want to brag let them. Just lets us do our mission all the easier. Start point is in forty seconds." The co-pilot said. On their control panels every indicator icon lit up as their cameras and signal-gathering equipment came to life for the run. The pilots pushed his throttles forward as his craft passed Mach 5 and finally settled into the attack speed of Mach 6.3. The alien on their wing matched them.

The pilot looked over at his opposite number in the alien craft. The Imperial pilot sent him a mocking salute before pulling up the nose of his own craft and leading his flight away from the spyplane. The pilot breathed a sigh of relief as he put more and more distance between the two of them.

They dropped a dozen miles in altitude as they vectored in on their approach down the length of Upper California's coastline. The darkened landscape of Upper California passed beneath them with only small fires or vehicle lights marking the difference between the shore and the Pacific. The two pilots switched between thermal, infra-red and night-vision on their helmets as they made their approach down the coastline at supersonic speeds. Ahead of them a glow marked the location of the Battle of Los Angeles.

Surrounding the doomed metropolis were several giant spacecraft that had been dubbed 'Star Destroyers' by Intelligence. The big UFOs had pounded a circular zone of death around the city with their larger laser cannons. Inside that zone hundreds of the tinier and slower 'H' fighters flew patrol over the burning city. Here and there they dove on unseen targets on the ground. The pilot took those actions to mark the positions of the NAU army's defensive lines.

The moonlit sky itself was filled with bursts of flak fire and the arcs of hundreds of strange blue energy projectiles that were flung from the beach areas and neighborhoods around the LAX international airport. The quick alien shells slammed down around the city on top of what the pilot assumed were his own side's artillery positions.

His flight plan took his plane directly underneath one of the 'Star Destroyers' and through the barrage of laser fire it was putting down. Suddenly that curtain of super-heated death disappeared. The alien mothership held its fire as they passed beneath it. That the aliens seemed to want them to succeed was the only conclusion the pilot could come up with for their amazing luck.

Behind and beneath the pilot on his plane's fuselage several top-secret cameras made by the Kodak and Nikon companies went to work. Their high-speed lenses taking millions of frames of digital images in a dozen different spectrums. Both pilots knew that each of the cameras cost more ameros than each of their houses combined and that high command was more concerned with the survival of the cameras than the two pilots.

Far beneath them the beaches of LA were cratered and pitted from the effects of the alien's landing. Night fighting had already pushed into the rubble of neighborhoods to the east. Small laser fire marked the boundaries of the pitched battle as it moved inland from the coast. Large strange shaped transports were landing at LAX while smaller, barn-sized transports buzzed in and out of the international airport like angry killer bees around a intruder.

The cameras recorded thousands of images of strange white and black infantry pouring from those transports and fighting tooth-and-nail with the American soldiers trying to set up an organized defense in the city.

The pilot noted the presence of strange, gray machines that walked on four legs and advanced ahead of the alien infantry. Out of their 'heads' poured red laser energy that decimated whatever it hit. An American attack helicopter unleashed a volley of hellfire missiles at one of the 'walking' vehicles just as enemy 'H' fighters blasted it from the sky. The American ground forces may have been knocked back on their heels but they were still in the fight. He rooted and prayed for his countrymen below as he streaked across their positions sending sonic booms across the Los Angeles Basin.

The pilot knew his cameras now contained information that needed to be in the hands of the generals commanding the forces coming to LA's rescue. With his afterburners still maxed out he raced out of the city to the south. The plane had only been over Los Angeles for a little less than a minute.

The spyplane overflew Orange County, which was clogged with refugees from the battle and the orbital bombardment that had razed San Diego to the ground south of them. Blue energy impacts exploded across the devastation as more and more army and national guard units tried to make sense out of the chaos below.

The cameras recorded everything.

They made another wide banking turn east as they passed over the wreckage of Coronado Harbor in San Diego. The city and its port, that had been the home of the NAU's Pacific Fleet headquarters was now slagged from the effects of an earlier, massive, orbital bombardment.

The cameras took more photos.

Twenty minutes later the spycraft came to a landing on the super-extended runway at Groom Lake inside Area 51. Technicians and ground crewmen swarmed the craft, desperate to get it undercover and inside a armored bunker located half a kilometer underneath the base. Even as the craft was still taxiing to its hanger the cameras were removed and the digital images whisked away by agents from the National Security Agency.

The plane moved into the specialized skunkwork's hanger and then was placed on a specialized lift system that lowered it into the bowels of the top-secret airbase. Five minutes later the two pilots were being debriefed when the underground bunker system began to rumble and shake as if from an earthquake.

In orbit high above, the heavy turbolasers of a Star Destroyer reduced the above-ground hangers and runway of Area 51 to molten glass.

**Kuati Research Sector, Block Besh Six, Culter City, Imperial Mars**

Ashla Ti, fugitive Togrutan Jedi Knight, was looking for her friends.

She stood on the roof of a massive, unpowered molecular furnace across the street from the Industrial Automaton droid manufacturing plant that shared a wall with her goal this evening. Aerial blimps with giant HoloImaging skins cruised slowly overhead showing propoganda images of victories from the new war on nearby Earth while multicolored searchlights mounted beneath their hulls bathed the towering factory buildings around her.

Twenty-three floors below her at street-level the metropolis of Culter City was alive in celebration. The survivors of _Tarkin's Fist_ were celebrating the return of the Fleet Admiral's brat according to the Martian HoloNews. Ashla sneered; she knew what they were really celebrating was war. War that had come to Mars by the will of their Empire. War that would put those ex-slaves down below back on top of somebody else again.

Twelve years ago another tragic war had willed that she, as a Jedi, would never be on top again.

She put thoughts of politics aside and concentrated on the obstacle ahead. Through flashes of fireworks and laser light she studied the fifty-meter gap between the Industrial Automaton building and her perch on the giant molecular furnace. In her minds eye she knew exactly where she would leap from and had already chosen her point of landing. Her montrals echolocated the distance once more in silent confirmation.

Fifty meters.

Her missing friends were rumored to be somewhere ahead. That rumor had cost quite a bit when she had bought it from a Bothian information-broker at the Long Jump Casino. This is why Jedi don't form attachments, she reminded herself. That way they don't end up falling to their deaths in the middle of the night.

Several fireworks boomed loudly overhead, scrambling her species' unique sixth sense and ruining her night-vision for half a second. Reflexively, she reached out with the Force. Reflectively she bore her fangs and silently hissed. Someone was out there. Someone was watching her.

She ducked behind a large release valve on the furnace's roof. Her red skin and black pants and cropped-cut top, though more befitting of a Sith, hid her instantly in the shadows. She controlled her breathing, narrowed her eyes, and reached out with the Force again, probing the factory across the street. Its security guards were several floors below watching the street festival, yet she could sense that someone else was close. She looked over the ledge at the crowds below and, sensing nothing, braced herself for her inhumanly, long leap.

She backed up as far as she could, to give herself enough space to build up the speed needed for her jump. She kicked off her boots, a Togrutan habit, and pulled out her inactive lightsaber. If someone was out there she was ready. Putting all of her trust in the Force she propelled herself forward across the roof of the furnace. At the lip of the furnace's edge she jumped.

She focused on the ledge across the street. The thousands of celebrating beings below never noticed the darkened figure that streaked through the night sky. She started to feel her trajectory dip and applied the technique of Force-Leap, instantly shooting her ten meters higher at a much faster rate of speed. Within a heartbeat she cleared the far edge, impacting the droid factory's roof with a thud and a roll. Her training kicked in, and following through with an Ataru-style roll, she bounded quickly to her feet. Already her blue lightsaber was activated and she was in the High-Guard position of her beloved Djem So style of lightsaber combat handed down to her by her former Master, Agen Kolar.

She focused on slowing down her rapid breathing as she echolocated again for any hidden threats around the darkened rooftop. No new sounds of approach rose from her invasion of the factory's perimeter. The only noise was that of the celebration below. She deactivated her lightsaber and stood erect, lowering her guard for the smallest fraction of a second.

That was all it took for the wall next to her to explode into life. A silent, black, armor-clad figure hit her mid-section and hurled both of them through a large skylight. Clari-crystalline glass shattered around them as they crashed through the opening.

Ashla struck back, ramming her elbow into the figure's back and shoulder as they hurled towards the factory's manufacturing floor. The mysterious stranger bounced off of her and landed somewhere else in the darkened factory. A beam of moonlight from the smashed skylight illuminated the center of the room.

Ashla recovered quickly from the impact with the floor, activated her blade, and returned to the High-Guard position. Her montrals and Force-abilities scanned the darkness for her attacker. "Show yourself." She hissed as she bore her fangs at the pitch-blackness surrounding her.

"Well, well, what have we got here? A _Jetii di'kut_? All by yourself, Girlie?" A voice mocked from the shadows. Her blade's light illuminated hundreds of inactive blue R2 astromech droids lined up in rows arround her. The electically-modified voice echoed off of their metal skins. Was he using _Mando'a _slang? Poodoo, she had to think. Was she facing a clonetrooper? A Mandalorian Supercommando? A Dark-Jedi?

"You know, Order 66 is still in effect as far as I know. Old Palps still wants you dead." A clone then, she decided. The rumor of the Jedi-murdering Order 66 had reached her during her years on the run from the Empire's hounds. Now one of them had found her trillions of parsecs from the Empire that had issued the order. "Probably be a big reward for turning you in."

"You are welcome to try. But I warn you I will not be easy prey like the Jedi you probably shot in the back." Silence greeted her words. She felt a sharp pang of regret and pain in the Force. She braced for the attack, scanning row after row of R2s for her hidden attacker.

Then he was there, standing in front of her in _Katarn_-class Night-Op armor, his DC-17m aimed at her face. Why show himself, she wondered? They shared a nod before he blasted off a poorly-aimed plasma bolt. She weaved her lightsaber into action and with a humming buzz the red blaster bolt deflected into a nearby R2 unit. The clone charged right into her attack but ducked just as her blade whirred at his helmet. His weight crashed into her legs. Her Jedi skills proved the superior and she flipped upwards, landing on top of the sliding clone.

Her knee knocked the blaster out of his hands and she brought the tip of her blade to his throat. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?" She asked the pinned trooper.

Suddenly a green lightsaber was activated and held to her own neck. "Because I've killed enough Jedi." She detected a well of sorrow in the clone's words. "Truce?" He asked.

"Truce." Both lightsabers deactivated at the same time. They both regained their footing. "Should I ask you where you got that?"

"Saleucami, last day of the War." the clone pulled out a grappling hook and attached it to the barrel of his blaster. Ashla knew only one thing happened on the last day of the War that mattered. She felt the Dark Side shutter quickly by and fought to keep the sickly presence of rage at bay. A Jedi shall know neither love nor hatred. Nor, she reminded herself, anger.

In the end she swallowed it.

He fired the grappling hook upwards, snagging it on a support up on the roof and reached out his hand to her. She hesitated for a moment before taking it. She didn't feel any hatred coming from this clone. She knew he still had standing orders to kill her but something told her she would be safe going with him. She stepped forward and took his hand. He wrapped his arm around her torso and held her tight as the blaster recoiled the grappling line, pulling them skyward. The rows of silent, deactivated R2s remained as the only witnesses to what had happened there.

She helped him to the roof, where fireworks continued to light the night sky. "What business do the Jedi have sneaking around Industrial Automaton?" He asked as he stowed away his looted lightsaber inside his armor.

"I don't. I'm not with the Jedi anymore." She explained.

"Probably for the best. Not many of them around anymore, are there?" He didn't seem to mean any harm with his statement but that didn't stop it from hurting any less.

"No thanks to your Emperor Palpatine. Who are you anyways?"

"Well, for starters I really don't think he's our Emperor anymore, just as much as I don't believe Order 66 has any effect here on Mars. As for who I am, I'm just Neyo. Well, some call me CC-8826 Clone Commander Marshal Neyo, 91st Reconnaissance Corps. But like I said, you can call me Neyo."

"Well, Neyo, it's good that Order 66 is no longer a concern. . . with you at least. I'm Ashla Ti, Jedi Knight, but you can call me Ashla. As for what business I have up here, I have none. My concern is them." She pointed at the smaller industrial complex next to Industrial Automaton's.

His head swiveled. "_Kandosii! _Arkanian Microtechnologies? That's where I was heading, too."

"Seriously?" She asked. He just nodded in response. As a clone she figured he probably had his own reasons for breaking into a cloning facility. "I hope we're not after the same thing."

"Depends. I'm here for answers. Looking to do some snooping around their computer mainframe." He explained.

She was relieved but only because Arkanian's cloning technology held no particular interest for her. "Good. I'm here for some misplaced friends of mine."

"Let me guess, Gran?"

"Yes, and an Ishi Tib. How did you know?"

"About a month ago this place was crawling with them. Then I got a tip that they all got moved out to that huge prisoner of war camp being set up way out on the other side of Mars. They've probably been there for a couple of weeks at the least. I'm sorry that I don't know more of their fate." Ashla's heart sank as the possibility that Frip and Brakatak had been moved once again. Already she had freed the female members of Brakatak's Gran herd and she had hoped to reunite the entire herd tonight. "Well then, we should go find out what we can."

"Agreed. I have no love for cloners. I'll watch your _shebs_ if you watch mine?"

"Sounds good. Shall we?" She gestured to the railed wall separating the two compounds. He moved first, rappelling down his grappling line in a matter of seconds before taking a covering position for her descent. When she landed next to him he silently pointed out a TT-8L/Y7 gatewatcher droid next to the rooftop entrance.

She motioned for him to stay put. Utilizing the Force she propelled a loose piece of debris across the rooftop. The droid gatewatcher followed it on its ponderous path. When the piece of trash was as far from them as it could get on the rooftop, she stood and flung her activated lightsaber. It whirled like a spinning disk before dissecting the security device in two halves. It continued its circling journey before returning to her palm. Neyo just shrugged; evidently he had seen that Jedi trick before.

Neyo rushed to the door and crouched beside it, listening. "Anything?" he asked. She reached out with the Force to sense the presence of anyone on the other side. Sensing nothing, she shook her head. His leg kicked out like a battering ram, shattering the door's lock and flinging it inward. The noise sounded like a Hutt falling off a cliff. Ashla hoped the noise from the celebrations at street level would drown out the racket they were making.

They both crept inside, covering each other as they made their way down the stairwell. They silently swept through each floor of offices and maintenance levels until they reached the production level. A security pass and retinal scan was required to access the floor, but Neyo proved to have more than one trick up his sleeve in order to slice the security systems. He placed what appeared to be a homemade and highly modified slicer chip on the door's electronic security alarm. From a pouch on his leg he withdrew a meter long piece of slicewire with dual carbonite handles. The molecule thick wire could cut through almost any material from durasteel to plasteel when used by the hands of an expert. Neyo expertly went to work on the hinges. He had the heavy durasteel security door open in under half a minute.

The vault-like door swung inwards, revealing a low-light room of industrial-sized vats and boilers. Along one wall stood six cloning chambers amongst several Bacta tanks. Dozens of monitoring devices were scattered around the room, their tiny indicator lights blinking like soulless eyes watching them from everywhere.

In the center of the room stood several computer mainframe workstations. Neyo started to advance when Ashla suddenly grabbed his shoulder and held him back. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

No sooner had the words escaped her mouth than out of the darkness a pair of violet electrostaffs ignited. Their dual electromagnetic, pulse-generating tips whirred in matching circles like two horrific, evil eyes. From out of the shadows stepped a pair of cloaked IG-100 MagnaGuards.

They stood just under two meters tall but from the horror stories Ashla had heard in the Temple, that the MagnaGuards were Jedi-killers, she knew better than to underestimate them. Keeping her gaze trained on their fierce, red photo-receptor eyes, she activated her blue blade and prepared herself for a life or death fight. Neyo took careful aim with his blaster and waited for her next move.

She charged at the droid nearest to her, while at the same instant Neyo unloaded an entire clip of tibanna into its partner. The MagnaGuard facing the clone commander swung its electrostaff wildly as it deflected the incoming volley. Bolts of red plasma ricocheted haphazardly around the factory floor before several of them impacted with Neyo's adversary, knocking him to the ground. The deadly assassin droid was back on its feet a second later.

Ashla sprinted at her opponent, who planted one end of its weapon on the floor, using it as a pivot to swing its body feet first at the Jedi. Ashla moved her lightsaber through an elegant upswing that amputated one of the droid's legs. But the other leg caught her in the chest and the remaining weight of the MagnaGuard slammed on top of her.

Ashla pushed upwards with the Force on her adversary and combined with the droid's momentum it continued to roll right past her. The MagnaGuard grasped at her as it went by, trying in vain to keep the superior position on the Jedi.

Ashla thought that several of her ribs might have been bruised or broken as she regained her knees. Pain radiated from her right side as she tried to regain the breath that had been forced from her lungs by the droid's assault. She started to stand but the crippled MagnaGuard was on her and swinging its electrostaff. Ashla concentrated on her defense as her blade bounced off the phrik-covered weapon. Just before the vicious droid could get inside of her defenses she focused her mind and became acutely aware of her surroundings. With an upward force-leap she back flipped from her prone position and landed on top of a nearby bacta tank.

The MagnaGuard glared at her from the ground, where it struggled to regain its footing with only one leg. Ashla sliced thought the feed and power cables of the tank and braced her shoulders against the wall. Her bruised ribs felt as if they were threatening to burst from her skin. With her feet firmly planted on the tank she pushed with all her might. She bit her lip hard as pain shot from her right side. The tank started to tip.

The MagnaGuard realized too late what was happening. It raised its electostaff in defense at the last minute as the weight of the tank crashed upon it, flattening it and shattering the tank. Bacta burst in every direction. Ashla jumped through the sloshing blue liquid with her lightsaber drawn downward. She landed on the incapacitated droid. Her blue blade sliced through its torso and she crouched at the ready until the red light faded from its photoreceptors.

Neyo moved slowly in a semi-circle, firing off carefully aimed shots every other second. The second MagnaGuard stood its ground, easily deflecting the clone's shots and waiting for a hole to emerge in Neyo's attack. It never detected the lightsaber that flew out of the shadows and decapitated it.

Ashla looked across the room where her weapon had fallen as the now headless droid turned to face its new attacker. It spun its electrostaff, effectively preventing Ashla from retrieving her lightsaber. Neyo chose that moment to charge. Silently moving to the droid's side, he kicked out with his heavy boot. The MagnaGuard struggled to regain its balance but before it could do so Neyo unloaded a fresh clip into the monster's body.

The room was quiet except for Ashla's labored breathing. With a flick of her hand she retrieved her lightsaber and deactivated it.

"Hold it right there." A voice commanded from above.

Neyo and Ashla looked up and saw three Khommite scientists on a gantry above, nervously holding them under the sights of several DL-44 blasters. Each of the beings looked as if they had never held a blaster before. Neyo actually looked relaxed and unconcerned in all of his armor. He nodded at her.

Ashla shrugged and with a slight focus she Force-pulled the gantry away from its supports. The whole structure, along with their three would-be captors, crashed to the floor of the cloning facility. Ashla smirked at the three clumsy scientists as they tried to regain their footing on the bacta-slick floor. With his _Katarn_ combat boots Neyo easily disarmed each of them. He moved away from the cowering cloners and went to examine the room's computer mainframe and cloning chambers.

Ashla approached the three Khommites. She tried to ignore the way they kept eying the deactivated lightsaber in her hand. "Where's Barakatak and Frip?"

"Who?" One of the cloners tried to put up a brave front.

"I don't have time to play games. The big Gran and the little Ishi Tib." " The blue blade came to life in her palm with an audible hum.

"We took. . . took them. . ." one of the scientists stammered.

"They're alive." Another cloner sputtered.

"So where are they?" She calmed the anger rising in her voice.

"We sent them to a concentration camp for prisoners, um...Camp 1138."

"But they're not criminals," Ashla raised the blade threateningly at one of them. "How you'd get them inside."

"We framed them. We sliced new identies into Culter City Guard's criminal records, made them into _Vigos_ for the Black Sun. The guards were so stressed for labor out there, that they didn't ask a lot of questions." Said one of the Khommites who was practically in tears.

"Where is it?" She growled.

"Its out on the Chryse Planitia, northwest of here," Neyo answered from the computer. "That's where the Fleet has set up a huge camp for arrivals from Earth."

"Then that's where I'm heading." She closed her lightsaber and faced the clone. "What should we do with these guys? The law would just set them free."

"Don't worry about them. I've got a little job for them and their cloning gear." He walked over and placed a set of stun collars on each of the cloners. Then he yanked each of them to his feet and directed them to start loading their equipment into a nearby hovertruck parked at the plant's loading ramp. "I wish I could help you more with your friends, but I have my own mission."

He reached into his armor and pulled out the green lightsaber handle from earlier. He handed it to her. "It was on Saleucami. Her name was Stass Allie, and she was the best General I ever followed. You were right. We blasted her in the back, like cowards."

Ashla didn't know what to say. She reached out and hesitantly took the offered lightsaber.

"It never did feel right, what we did to the Jedi. They were our Generals and our friends. I'm sorry." Neyo offered with genuine sorrow in his voice. Ashla could feel herself fighting back her own tears.

"I know. I feel the good inside of you."

"Between the _Jetii_ and us clones thousands have perished. Let us have peace."

"Agreed." She turned away and left the cloning center as tears streamed down her face.


	15. Act 2 Helter Skelter

**2 Kilometers over Santa Catalina Island, Target East Approach, NAU, Earth**

Platoon Sergeant SF-4738 was as ready as he was ever going to get. He looked around the interior of the crew compartment of the troop-carrying MAAT/i as it picked up speed for its final approach to the landing zone. The warm ocean air blew through the troop doors as he unslung his E-11 blaster from his shoulder and removed the safety on the blaster rifle.

The young stormtroopers around him followed his lead. A few of them performed a quick function check of their blasters, others checked and rechecked their armor, while others stared out the doors at the passing ocean. But most of them just stood in silent contemplation of the combat that lay ahead for them all. One new recruit lifted up his helmet and vomited out the doorway as his nerves got the better of him. No one gave the trooper any grief about it.

In the back of the MAAT/i two of his veterans, HF-3105 and JN-6166, laughed at a private joke as they hefted the platoon's heavy PLX-2M Missile Launcher onto HF-3105's back. The two veterans had been through a dozen engagements together and SF-4738 had no doubt they would stick to each other's sides during the upcoming fight. His shinies were another story.

Forty-two noobs filled out the ranks of his 3rd Platoon. None of them had never fired a blaster in anger or had hostile enemy fire aimed back at them before. How they would perform in battle was a mystery. His relatively new platoon leader, Lieutenant Mahan, stood nearby looking over the shoulders of the flight crew. The youthful Loot had proved himself in the hand-to-hand combat aboard the _Abandoned Hope_ last year, but it still remained to be seen how he would perform in a blaster fight. The kid didn't lack for guts but SF-4738 made a mental note to keep the officer within arm's reach during the fight, just in case. SF-4738 wasn't ready to take over the command of the platoon just yet.

He nudged Mahan in the shoulder and the officer stood up from his leaning position. The loot moved aside enough for him to duck his bucket into the cockpit. "We almost there, Boys?" he asked the flight crew. The polarized lenses in his helmet dimmed to protect his eyes from the rising sun in the east.

"Three minutes to LZ." the pilot answered. "First wave is reporting the landing zone is still hot."

He wasn't kidding either.

Ahead of the thousands of transports bringing in the second attack wave towards Target East, the metropolis of Los Angeles burned. A massive wall of smoke showed where the orbital bombardment had cut the city off from the rest of the North American Union. Occasionally, a green-hued turbolaser bolt would streak down through the thick, gray plumes to inflict further damage.

Closer to them large parts of the metropolis burned as the battle for the city raged throughout Los Angeles County. Towards the oceanfront and the beaches ahead SF-4738 could make out the positions of the first wave slowly pushing their way inland. The first landings had occurred at sundown the day before, and three other legions had fought through the night in strange Earth neighborhoods with odd names of Rancho Palos Verdes, Torrance, Pacific Palisades, and San Pedro.

Above the city small black clouds blossomed as the enemy tried to erect a cover of shrapnel-filled flak to knock down the Imperial airspeeders. He noticed several wings of TIE fighters circling lazily above the weird flak but couldn't detect any of the Earth's own airspeeders in the neighborhood. That was good; it was always best to have air superiority in any combat environment. Elsewhere he saw large aquatic ships burning or capsized next to the demolished docks of the on-rushing city, as well as dozens of smoky pillars marking smaller boats burning on the surface below him.

He wondered how much fight these abos had left in them. His thoughts were interrupted by the MAAT'i's comm. "All Three Niner Five transports make for L-Z LAX, repeat all Three Niner Five transports make for L-Z LAX."

He balanced himself as the pilot banked the transport to the north aiming for the civilian airspeeder base that had been captured by the first wave early in their attack. The hundreds of transports carrying the stormtroopers of the 395th Legion flew in formation along with them.

The NCO prepped himself as the whole formation descended toward the choppy surf below. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a stimpak full of haladreshin. He pushed the trigger on the hand-held device as it injected a small amount of the neurological stimulant into his right brachial artery and felt a warm rush as the chemical compound surged through his veins. Several other troopers around the compartment did the same with their own stimpaks.

An alarm ping suddenly chimed through the cockpit and he noticed how both of the flight crew suddenly tensed up in their jump seats. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Incoming anti-airspeeder strike, Sarge." The co-pilot answered. "We were briefed that the abos have a nasty one in the neighborhood. Sensors indicate it's not locked on us."

"Attention all transports." the cockpit's FlightOp comm channel buzzed to life, "Attention all transports. Maintain formation. Evasive action is not authorized. Repeat. Evasive action is not..." the controller on the hyperspace radio seemed frantic with his warning.

"Why in the kriffing hell not?" SF-4738 asked the pilots.

Both of the MAAT/i flight crew had their hands full as they continued to go through the landing sequence, but the co-pilot shot back over his shoulder. "It's a pretty crowded sky up here, Sarge. These transports start breaking formation and we'll lose more to collisions than to anything the Earth scum can throw at us." His response made some small sense to SF-4738 but he hated leaving things to chance. He continued to scan the horizon. The Legion's crowded approaches to Target East reminded him of the busy skyways of Imperial Center.

The targeting computer on the control panel indicated twelve inbound, anti-airspeeder missiles. "Patriot IIIs." the co-pilot warned.

"What are those?" SF-4738 asked.

"It's their nastiest missile, slippery too." he pointed several kilometers inland where TIE/In starfighters were attempting to intercept the incoming attackers as distant TIE/sa bombers pounced on the weapon's launchers and eradicated them. The lead transports in the formation suddenly opened up with their chain turbolasers, lighting up the morning sky like an Empire Day celebration back on Imperial Center. Explosions erupted across their flight path as the intense blaster fire caught several of the enemy projectiles.

Off to his port side a flash of light caught his attention as an incoming MAAT/i was struck head on by one of the Patriot III missiles. With a spiraling trail of smoke twenty-five stormtroopers and air crew plunged to their deaths in the deep blue sea below. A nearby lumbering MAAT/c was trailing smoke as it fell out of the formation. From what SF-4738 gathered from what his flight crew was saying to each other, they believed the stricken craft would at least make it into L-Z LAX. Whether it would ever leave again was anyone's guess.

He didn't have time to worry about the other transport as he ducked his head back into the cargo compartment. He checked his chromo. Thirty seconds to go. He saw the sandy stretches of a beach flash by as his transport raced across the coast. He moved over until he was next to his platoon leader in the open doorway. They both were right behind the door gunner's bubble and a mere fifty meters off of the deck. SF-4738 scanned the odd construction styles below for snipers and ambushes. In the blink of an eye they were over the ironically named Imperial Highway 105 and on approach to LAX's southern jetway.

"Get tactical troopers!" SF-4738 yelled at the crowded troop bay.

"Sarge, looks like we tore up their airspeeder base pretty wizard." Mahan exclaimed with excitement as he gestured to the cratered and pockmarked deck below.

"Loot, that's not blaster burns, that's heavy slugthrower damage. They've probably been throwing slugs at the first wave boys all through last night."

"Oh, I didn't think about..." before he could say what he hadn't thought of, the MAAT/i touched down on the L-Z. SF-4738's boots were the first on the dirt. Mahan charged ahead following field police guides from the legion that had already secured the base. The Sergeant stood outside the door, spun around and grabbed the first stormtrooper he could. "Move your _shebs_ Boys! Emperor be damned, I said move it! Move it! Move it! Move it!" he pulled and flung one trooper after another after their platoon leader. Random slug explosions around the airspeeder base were nothing compared to the wrath of their platoon sergeant.

JN-6166 and HF-3105 were the last two off of the transport as they manhandled their heavy weapons forward. He wasn't sure, but if their external speakers had been on SF-4738 imagined that they would have been laughing at him. They had heard his battle-field threats a dozen times over the years. He reminded himself to knock their larking buckets together if he got the chance. The second the last two troopers cleared the door the big MAAT/i rose into the sky again. A stormtrooper with ground controller guidance cones and advanced commo waved it away as a LAAT/c dropped off a TIE crawler tank less than twenty seconds after SF-4738's own transport took off. The process was repeating itself all along the captured runway.

Even inside his bucket the sheer sound of the battle was almost deafening. Hundreds of explosive, enemy slugs burst along the edges of the airspeeder base, while Imperial artillery returned the favor with mass-drivers and arcing plasma bolts. TIE fighters and Imperial transports by the hundreds screamed overhead as the second wave was landed inside the landing zone.

Thousands of stormtroopers followed their officers east towards hastily prepared positions along the berm of the San Diego Freeway 405 ahead of them. On the freeway's raised position SF-4738 could see several dozen walkers from the first wave blasting at targets inland. Several haphazard slug artillery shells burst down amongst the collapsed buildings and advancing stormtroopers, blowing some off their feet. Most got up again but some of them stayed down. As he followed in his platoon's wake, policing up any stragglers, he noticed a 'Dustoff' LAAT/a overloaded with stretchers taking off, presumably heading towards the nearest _Med-Star_ frigate in orbit above. He tried not to think of the sight as an ill omen. This was war; troopers got wounded in war, troopers got killed in war. His boys were going to be fine, he told himself, he would make sure of that.

His breathing picked up as he jumped into one crater after another, just to climb out the other side and continue his jogging advance to the front lines. His helmet's HUD identified each trooper in his command from the horde rushing towards the raised roadway. He jerked to the left, out of the way of an AT-AP that was readjusting its firing position before returning indirect counter-battery fire at an unseen enemy howitzer. They were going after the enemy artillery with a vengeance. Field police waved the men of the 395th to the side as a column of HAV-A5 Juggernauts ambled up and over the raised freeway berm ahead.

_Forn_ Company fell into position amongst the collapsed overpass at the junction of the freeway and what somebody told him was West Century Boulevard. The blocks of buildings had been pounded into rubble and dust by both sides during the previous night's fighting. SF-4738 recognized the unit markings of the 222nd legion amongst the stormtroopers dug in on the high ground. AT-ATs from both waves started to mass behind the freeway for the morning's push further into the city.

SF-4738 ordered his troopers to start digging in and got his corporals to supervise their work as he and Mahan were called over for a quick leadership briefing in the assembly area. SF-4738 recognized GF-7483, the 6th Battalion's Sergeant Major standing with the battalion's colonel as they arrived in the huddled group. They were accompanied by a few other First Sergeants and officers of the 222nd's 3rd Battalion, the unit they were passing through before jumping off.

One of officers from the 222nd was addressing the group. "We landed in the evening and surprised them pretty good. From the prisoners we've taken we've learned that the abos weren't exactly prepared for us here. The bombardment only gave them a twelve-hour window to move troops into the city so they were pretty disorganized when we landed. That's been changing by the hour." The stormtrooper with Major's insignia explained. "Now to our immediate front we've got elements of the 40th Upper California National Guard, 4th Infantry Division, and the 11th Armored Cavalry divisions."

A NCO of theirs continued, "We mauled them pretty good during the night, but the dark didn't slow them any. They've got night-viewers that allow them to see like a nexu. They slowed our advance down to about a third of our objective lines. There's not a house or building on the other side of this embankment that they didn't fight tooth and nail for."

"Anything you can tell us about their capabilities?" A lieutenant next to Mahan asked.

"Yeah, the new armor we've got is nearly as good as advertised but that doesn't mean you want to get in close with them. We found out the kriffing hard way that their bigger slugthrowers can certainly kill a careless trooper at any range and if they get on top of you, you're womp rat bait. Oh, and something you definitely want to tell the troopers; Whatever they're using for building material around here is pretty cheap. The duracrete they use can be blasted through, even with your small arm blasters. If you hear them on the other side of a wall shoot through it. Almost every barricade or obstacle they've erected turned to poodoo once our blasters tore into it."

"Thank you, Major. Your help is appreciated." The colonel of the 6th Brigade interrupted him. "Ok, Boys, we'll be advancing in bounding rushes in a continuous line. We're here to clear them out block by block. That means sending troopers down into the sewers as well. The 222nd and two other legions have already reported that the earthlings are defending those as well. Midday goal for the whole legion is some street named Crenshaw Boulevard, about three or four kilometers east, followed by our evening objective at the 110 freeway." He indicated a raised freeway well in the distance. "Reports of several nasty civilian pirate or swoop-gangs in the area, especially in this Inglewood neighborhood ahead, just remember we don't have time for prisoners right now."

SF-4738 made a mental note that if any of these Earthlings raised a slugthrower at his boys he'd cut them down, civilian status be damned. The veteran Sergeant felt himself start to get anxious to get his troopers moving again, the colonel was wasting too much time here on the edge of the L-Z. He repeatedly scanned his eyes back to his platoon's nearby position, insuring himself that they were all right. He mentally calmed himself to focus on the job ahead. The Colonel continued, "We've got to push out. The first wave still hasn't gotten all of its support SPHA/m landed, and until they do we won't have a lot of arty support either. Commanders stick close to your forward air-observers, and you can call in all the TIE/sa bomber strikes you want."

"These earthlings are a pretty sorry..."

SF-4738 never heard the blast, but he certainly witnessed the impact that stopped the colonel in mid-sentence. A large caliber slug scarred the side of the officer's bucket as a sickening popping noise told of the colonel's neck breaking.

"Sniper!" Several of the gathered group shouted as once as they all flopped to the ground.

SF-4738 grabbed Mahan's shoulder plate and gave him a tug. The Loot nodded and followed the platoon sergeant as they belly crawled back to their platoon. Behind him he heard GF-7483 ordering everyone back to their units to get the attack under way. He risked a glance and saw the Sergeant Major standing amongst colored smoke, obscuring several medics working on the downed officer. Well, if the talkative Colonel wasn't dead then he had just bought himself a few months in a bacta tank, SF-4738 told himself. As SF-4738 crawled through the smoke and mud he wondered which of them was the lucky one. Kriffing great way to start a war.

"Stang brave officer, the Colonel?" Mahan asked as they crawled.

"He didn't know when to shut up, Loot. Stupid, too, to let a sniper get a chance to draw a bead on him like that." He noticed how the young officer slowed down to consider his hidden warning.

They arrived back at their platoon's position within a few minutes. JN-6166 and HF-3105 sat on the western slope of the embankment as if they were lying on a beach on Naboo or Alderaan. "Get up Boys, we're moving out!" he shouted over the din of the battle.

"Yes, let's go, Troopers." Mahan echoed. "Stay close to the walkers."

Several of the massive AT-ATs were slowly lumbering over the roadway embankment or through the gap by the over-pass. They moved slowly in order not to out-distance their infantry support. AT-STs flitted in and out of the advancing formations identifying lines of resistance and roadblocks ahead. The four-legged walkers indiscriminately started leveling the blocks of homes ahead. In several locations Earthling hovertanks and landspeeders burst into flames as heavy blasters uncovered their concealed positions.

SF-4738 led the charge down the eastward slope and into the neighborhood ahead. They didn't take any fire right away as the 222nd had already held the first block or so of buildings. Soon enough they came upon a dug-in line of entrenched stormtroopers and E-Web emplacements that were laying down a withering fire into the wreckage of homes ahead.

Mahan was about to order an advance across the street, but SF-4738 stopped him in time. The lieutenant gave him a curious shrug before SF-4738 pointed straight up. A gray walker passed over their position. Its gray footpads shook the ground beneath them with every crunching step. His troopers were used to working with the machines and knew how to avoid getting stepped on.

The earthlings ahead were getting their first glimpse of the terrifying, massive war machines for the first time in daylight. The walker above drew every slug for blocks like a magnet. Thousands of lead slugs bounced uselessly off the hull of the AT-AT to rain harmlessly down on SF-4738 and his 3rd Platoon like a hot-lead hailstorm.

With dozens of hidden blasting positions suddenly revealed the stormtroopers wasted no time in tearing their blasterfire into their enemies. Two of his heavy grenadiers armed with large Z-6 rotary blaster cannons tore gaping holes in the earthling's defenses. One of them brewed up a hidden slugthrower-mounted landspeeder that exploded and shredded several enemy troopers crouched around it. Some of the abos realized what was happening and stopped blasting; for many others it was much too late. SF-4738 signaled one of his corporals behind him. The trooper's section went into action with their proton mortar launchers, flinging high-energy explosives down on the enemy ahead just as the AT-AT smashed into their positions.

Mahan led the charge as SF-4738 made sure each of his troopers followed. At the moment the proton mortars impacted with the enemy lines his whole platoon was already rushing across the street. Several of his boys went down due to random slugthrower blasts; most of them got up again and rejoined the hurried charge. Medics quickly fell on the few that stayed down.

One trooper from the first wave fell back past him, blood turning his camouflaged armor red as the trooper held his side. SF-4738 tried not to think of the shattered ribs and damaged internal organs the trooper was trying to protect as he made his way to the rear. One of the trooper's buddies ran up and threw his arm around his friend to help him make it to the medics. At least he's not dead, the platoon sergeant told himself as his stims kept him focused on the charge.

Within seconds the platoon was amongst the rubble of the first block of homes. His troopers went after the few surviving Earth defenders with a vengeance, blasting down as many as they could in their foxholes. In other places they used their numbers to overwhelm the few surviving defenders with fierce hand-to-hand fighting. In a row of destroyed homes ahead, SF-4738 watched as the abos retreated to another defensive line. He switched between thermal imaging, infrared, and normal modes on the lenses of his bucket with the ease of a youngling and located one hidden firing position after another. Immediately he ordered his E-Webs and JN-6166's PLX into action. They flattened each makeshift bunker in short order as the rest of his troopers worked to flank each house.

Lieutenant Mahan was nearby with one of their hyperspace radiomen, directing the AT-ATs heavy fire into target after target. Another walker to their right engaged a pair of earthling hovertanks that SF-4738 wasn't aware of until he saw two oily, smoking pyres marking their last stands.

Block after block it was much of the same. In several areas strange colorful swoop gangs made defensive stands for certain buildings alongside the military troopers the Earthlings fielded. They died in place as SF-4738's troopers flanked and crushed their positions. In only a few places did the Earth soldiers throw up their hands in surrender. SF-4738 didn't flinch the first time some of his troopers blasted down the beaten abos; that sort of thing happened in war. By mid-morning they had already captured over a hundred enemy troopers, most of them wounded, and sent them to the rear.

After passing through the only undeveloped area of the morning, an open space called Hollywood Park, SF-4738 was informed they could start to call in fire from newly-landed SPHA/m back at L-Z LAX. Enemy artillery fire had been declining throughout the morning as effective Imperial counter-battery blasts silenced one NAU gun after another. Several prisoners had remarked that amongst their own artillery crews it was said that to fire two rounds from the same position was a death sentence. SF-4738 had smirked at that. If you didn't have the right tools for the job, why would you go to war with the Empire in the first place?

Unfortunately the fraking abos didn't think that way. They weren't going to give up this town without a fight. They poured troopers into the city to battle block by block, house to house. Just crossing a street could be, and a few times was, worth a stormtrooper's life. 2-M _Saber_ hovertanks came in and knocked houses flat and blasted the beings that fled from the ruins. Then some kriffing abo they hadn't blasted threw a bottle of flammable petrol through an open hatch and turned a _Saber_ into a durasteel coffin for the pilot inside. And then a counterattack came in and threw the Imperials back three blocks.

More AT-ATs strode forward. Telling streets from blocks of houses wasn't so easy anymore. Imperial-occupied Los Angeles was nothing more than a rubble field. The whole city would look like that by the time SF-4738 and his troopers finished driving out the abos. . . if they ever did. He hoped he was wrong.

A nearby machine-slugthrower blasted at the walkers from the cover of what appeared to be a clothing store for tall and fat beings. Slugs clanged off the clunky machines' armor. SF-4738 didn't know why machine-slugthrowers banged away at the AT-ATs; they couldn't hurt them. Bang away they did, though. He wasn't sorry, though. The more slugs they aimed at the walkers the fewer they'd blast at his stormtroopers, whom they really could hurt.

Traversing heads had a ponderous grace. The three cockpits swung together till their heavy cannons bore on that malevolently winking eye of fire. The cannons spoke together, too. More of the battered shop fell in on itself. But the machine-slugthrower opened up again like a small youngling yelling, _Nyah! Nyah! You missed me! _when bigger younglings chucked rocks at him. The abo crew had guts.

All they got for their courage was another volley, and then another. After that the slugthrower stayed quiet. Had the walkers put it out of action or was it playing dead? SF-4738 hoped his troopers wouldn't find out the hard way.

He sent squads forward and was only half surprised when the machine-slugthrower in the ruined store opened up again. His stormtroopers were quick to take cover, too. He didn't think the slugthrower got any of them. He hoped not, anyways.

An Imperial walker sent several more heavy bolts into the clothing store. The machine-slugthrower stayed quiet. Ever cautious, stormtroopers in camouflaged white armor crawled forward. One of them tossed in a thermal detonator and went in after it. SF-4738 wished he had a trooper with a flamethrower handy but his blazetrooper was somewhere else in the line at the moment.

After a minute or so, the stormtrooper came out of the wreckage with his thumb up. That was one stubborn, abo machine-slugthrower that wouldn't murder anybody else. Now-how many hundreds, how many thousands more waited in Target East? The answer was too depressing to think about, so SF-4738 didn't.

A wide street ahead of the advance was a haven of high energy plasma explosions, as a sporadic barrage crept inland ahead of the stormtroopers and their walkers. SF-4738 crawled behind a collapsed wall with several of his troopers. Amongst the debris a small, green sign poked out. He pulled the metal object out of the rubble; across its face, in alternate basic, were the words _Crenshaw Boulevard_. He checked his Chromo. 1320. Over an hour behind schedule. In the distance the embankment of the 110 freeway seemed much closer than it had earlier that morning. Behind schedule, the enemy refusing to throw their hands up in surrender, this battle wasn't going as well as the vacheads in Fleet thought it would. Typical navy poodoo, he thought.

Tibanna haulers came forward with ammo and water to replenish his troopers. SF-4738 gave his boys a breather before the rest of the advance was ordered to continue. From both flanks retreating Earth soldiers rushed across the open expanse of Crenshaw ahead of other advancing stormtrooper units. His E-webs laid down a scything fire that cut down dozens of enemy troopers before they even knew his troopers were on their flank.

A primitive abo APC tried making it across as well, but JN-6166 and HF-3105 let loose with their PLX-4, decimating the armored vehicle and its crew in the middle of the roadway.

The order to advance came shortly there after. SF-4738 got his stormtroopers to their feet again as the monstrous AT-ATs led the charge across the street. "C'mon Boys, the quicker we wipe out this city, the faster this kriffing war will be over! Let's go! You think this abo scum wants to live forever?"

They advanced.


	16. Loi Cas 2

**Luwan Neighborhood, Shanghai PRC, Chinese Main Line of Resistance**

Loi Cas couldn't remember when he had last slept. For that matter he couldn't recall the last time he wasn't sure he was about to die in the next moment. At this particular moment he found himself crawling through a muddy slit trench to one of his regiment's entrenched tank positions. His own command Type 99KM main battle tank remained in a firing position fifty meters to his rear.

He could feel the eyes of infantrymen, their forms and features concealed in the darkness of the smoke-filled night, watching him as he crawled by. His thermal night-vision goggles allowed him to crawl around a positioned sniper team armed with a QBU-88 sniper rifle and scanning the far bank with their night-sight spotter scopes for the well-hidden enemy soldiers. He risked popping his own head up for a moment for a better view of his goal ahead. The dark shape of another PLA tank was barely visible, camouflaged underneath the rubble of a collapsed store front. The armored behemoth's gun poked out of the debris tracking unseen enemy targets across the river.

His regiment had arrived on the western bank of the Haungpu River late the prior evening and had quickly entrenched themselves to repel the alien's inevitable assault. Across the river in Pudong, the enemy built up for their attack. He glanced back across the water at the giants that had appeared in the night. Massive, darkened, four-legged dragon-machines had taken up positions across the Haungpu, occasionally unleashing powerful laser fire from their heads. The few tanks he had ordered to engage the monsters all lay in burning piles of melted steel around his position.

Before he had left his own command position he counted nineteen of the huge war-machines, though messengers throughout the night had confirmed the presence of dozens more along the riverbank. They didn't even bother to conceal themselves as they stood in place, forebodingly absorbing artillery and direct-fire harmlessly throughout the night. Surely they would lead the assault that had to come with the dawn.

Loi Cas arrived at the tank under his command. Several concealed infantry and snipers in the rubble silently acknowledged his presence as he climbed onto the rear deck of the vehicle. He slapped the tank commander's hatch as quietly as he could with the palm of his hand. He didn't know why he bothered to remain so silent, since the rumble and crash of the battle roared up and down the river.

The hatch cracked slightly, and the Chinese Colonel could barely make out the presence of a pistol pointed at his face. "Golden?"

"Eagles." He swapped counter-signs with the soldier inside the tank. It was unlikely an alien enemy infiltrator knew the name of Shanghai's baseball team.

The hatch swung open, and the vehicle's tank commander stood low in the turret. He whipped off a quick salute at his Colonel, "Stop that, enemy snipers across the river have already proven they have the eyes of cats. Their night-vision gear is even better than the American stuff we've copied." As an extra precaution he dropped inside the turret for further protection.

He unfolded a map and laid it out on top of the gun's breech. The turret crew huddled around and studied it by the low-light given off by their flashlights. Several circles showed the positions of his remaining tanks amongst the jumbled maze of the Luwan District. He didn't mention that part of his job tonight was to see if each of those marked crews was still amongst the living, or if they had been picked off by the dragon-machines across the riverfront. He mentally checked off this tank before continuing.

"This is our secondary line of defense and this is our tertiary one, if that one falls as well." He explained as he traced several streets on the map.

"We are not going forward, Colonel?" The young tank commander asked. Confusion, hope, and fear all vied for dominance in his eyes in the limited light of the turret.

"The army is not fully in place yet. Our casualties have been..." He searched for the words to properly describe the massacre happening in the rear, "extreme." The three tankers nodded their heads in understanding. They had all seen the damage in the alien's bombardment zone when they had broke into the city. "But all is not lost. General Ling believes the 31st Group Army can hold. . ."

"General Ling? Where are General Cho and General Shanto?" The track's commander asked.

"Both of their headquarters have been destroyed due to enemy air attacks. We believe the alien signal interception units are quite good." Cas explained sullenly, "Which reminds me, there is a general order for all units to use minimal electronic signals while at the front, effective immediately.

"I see, Sir. Understood. But why aren't we going forward? There is a unit of commandos preparing to cross the river by inflatables on our left flank."

"Where?"

"About forty meters," The gunner explained. "Flying Dragon Unit's men. I saw them about fifteen minutes ago."

"Do we give support, Colonel?" The commander asked.

"No, save your ammunition for the morning. I have no knowledge of those soldiers or their mission. I've lost fourteen out of thirty six tanks in the past day. Let the special-forces play hero if they want, but our mission is to protect the people. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." The three tankers whispered in unison in the darkened turret.

"Be ready to move in the morning. I suspect the aliens will try to force a river crossing at first light." He reached up and unlatched the hatch before popping it open. As he climbed up out of the tank he felt a pull on his uniform's pant leg. He looked down into the face of the loader. The young private was the most junior man in the tank. The tank's commander looked horrified that the enlisted man would dare approach their superior officer in such a way.

"Colonel, I'm sorry, Sir." The man looked petrified to be speaking to him, and not just from the fear of the battle that raged around them. "Has there been any news from the outside? I mean outside Shanghai."

Loi Cas understood the boy's fear and concern. He too had a wife and child of his own. They had been up north in Beijing when the aliens arrived. The city hadn't been evacuated and there hadn't been any news since yesterday's attack. "Many cities have been hit, Son. But according to army headquarters they have been held to only landing and taking part of Shanghai so far."

"Nowhere else, Colonel?" The gunner asked from the bowels of the turret.

"There is a rumor they've landed in America as well. I heard California somewhere, but you did not hear that rumor from me. Bad for morale, so I better not hear it again. We have the honor of holding the aliens here, and we shall do so. When the whole army is ready we shall push them into the sea. Agreed? Good. Be ready to fight in the morning." He crawled out of the turret, knowing dawn was only four hours away.

He hunched down as he entered another shallow trench, bumping into several infantrymen huddled inside it for protection. Since his own unit had taken up position the day before, an unending trickle of men and supplies had been making its way up the riverfront. Cas didn't want to think of how many of those Chinese soldiers would never arrive.

Moving to the left of the first tank he slowly came across a wider stretch of trench. His goggles let him see commandos inflating several rubber boats. A 2nd Lieutenant noticed him and crawled over, not bothering to salute. "Colonel, are you in command of the tanks scattered about this neighborhood?"

"Yes, what's left of them. I was just doing my rounds with their crews now." He pointed to another tank-like shape in a rubble pile thirty meters ahead. "Are you crossing the river?"

The commando nodded as four boats laden with explosives were heaved over the river-facing lip of the trench. One commando after another disappeared over the top.

"Be careful. The aliens have awfully good night-vision capabilities, better even than my tank's thermal sights."

"Don't worry, Colonel. We learned in Formosa ways to deal with that." He indicated the rear boat, covered in camouflaged netting. It appeared to be the type of thermal dampening nets China had stolen from Sweden years ago. The man started to crawl over the lip of the trench to join his men.

"Barracuda netting won't be enough." Cas warned. The commando officer ignored him and helped his men slide their boats into the water.

Cas made it to the next tank and entered before the commandos were mid-river. He asked for the radio and keyed it to the regiment's channel. He didn't want to reveal his brigade's position but he was ready to provide covering fire if the Flying Dragon commandos needed it. Through the crash of both sides' artillery there was an eerie silence on the river. His own goggles had trouble tracing the commando's progress through the smoke and darkness.

Suddenly a dozen red flashes of light blinked to life on the far bank. Each flash repeated twice in less than five seconds before stopping. Cas stared up at the silent dragon-machines standing stoically on the far side; none of them had even budged or paid attention to the river. No enemy artillery had fallen, nor had Loi Cas seen any of the enemy's large bipedal walkers. He stared out into the river.

The four boats were silently drifting apart; one appeared to already be sinking. Onboard the figures of each of the commandos was slumped over or hanging over the boat's sides. No one was moving or calling for help as the boats drifted with the current downstream.

"Snipers." He said to no one in particular.

"Colonel?" The new tank commander asked.

"Sharpshooters on the far bank. Damn good ones too." He thought of the twenty-something commandos in those boats that had been wiped out in the space of a breath. Any thoughts of going forward tomorrow were quickly vanishing.

"Did you get their positions, Colonel? Our tank's gun might not do anything to those huge beasts standing across the river, but it could do some world-ending damage to an infantry man."

"No doubt, Sergeant, But those snipers are probably already relocating to new firing positions. I'd rather not lose this tank to shoot up some rubble pile in Pudong." The three tankers in the turret nodded in agreement. After all, the hapless commandos hadn't been in their unit.

Cas unfolded his map again. Once more he explained their fallback strategy if the enemy was able to get a foothold on their side of the river. He explained to the crew their area of responsibility and where their fire overlapped with fire from the tanks on their flanks. They nodded their understanding throughout his briefing.

Again he crawled out of the tank and into the make-shift infantry trenches. For the most part the enemy's artillery seemed focused on counter-battery fire through the early morning hours and left the riverfront alone, but in several places he saw the results of someone moving about in the night too much. The dragon-machines had put paid to vehicle and building alike. Anyone who became too frisky soon earned a salvo from the alien beasts nearby.

His uniform was now caked with mud from his crawl. He slowly traveled through an area of jagged metal. Through the smell of smoke and mud he noticed another odor. The reek of blood, burnt meat, and spilled innards filled his nostrils. Looking closely at the debris around him, he noted for the first time that he had been crawling through the charred remains of what had been a fully-manned Type-89 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. The tracked vehicle seemed to have been carrying its complement of fifteen soldiers besides its two man crew when it was hit. Loi Cas realized he must have crawled through most of them. His own vomit soon added to the horrid smell.

He frantically stood up and ran twenty meters before flopping himself down in another section of the trench. When he looked up half a dozen QBZ-03 rifles were pointed in his face. Evidently he had landed in the midst of several mortar teams setting up their 120mm weapons. They had the right to be jumpy; Cas noted they seemed to only be at a third of their normal strength. More troops lost in the bombardment zone, he figured. They raised their rifles as they became aware he was a Chinese soldier just like them, and a high ranking officer as well.

He noted one of the men nearby was an infantry major. The two of them looked at each other in their night-vision goggles. "These men yours?" He asked.

"What's left of them. I've got what's left of my battalion strung along two blocks each direction of this position." Cas did the math really quick. That was an incredibly small amount of ground for a battalion of infantry to cover. How many men did he lose getting into position? For that matter, why was a major commanding a battalion in the first place? The major answered before he could ask. "They're all gone. We lost just over sixty percent of our strength falling back out of Pudong yesterday. Can't rightly say if it did us any good." he spit into the mud, "Never did see many of the alien-devils go down."

Cas wondered what he meant by that. "I have twenty-two tanks left that I know of. I could use infantry support."

"Yeah? We saw you were in the neighborhood. Saw you guys just made fat targets for those damned lasers of theirs when you arrived. Why should we help?"

"For starters, I could order you to." Cas stared the man squarely in the face, "But more importantly I can offer you a ride." Cas saw that he suddenly had the officer's complete attention. "You and I both know the aliens didn't stop because of the river. They're going to hit us first thing in the morning and this whole line is going to crack. Things are going to move pretty fast after that. If you can keep their infantry off of my tanks, your men are perfectly welcome to hitch a ride as grenadiers while we haul butt to the secondary line of resistance. Otherwise, you'll be cut off and crushed underneath those," he pointed at one of the dragon-machines across the river, "In under, what I'm guessing, a quarter hour after the sun rises."

The major considered the offer. Finally, he bowed to the superior officer. "Your big fat tanks will surely draw their fire away from my men, but I don't want them being left behind when the army. . ." he looked for the proper phrase, ". . .'maneuvers' tomorrow. We have a deal." He saluted. Cas unfolded his map and they went over the details for a short while before the armor colonel moved on again.

The horizon was already turning purple in the east when Loi Cas finished his last briefing and returned to his own tank. Overhead, Chinese artillery shells trickled across the river to spoil the alien-devils' attack. Cas hoped the artillery crews were doing some good, but if he had known they were losing a gun for every twenty shells they flung due to intensely accurate counter-battery fire, he would have wept at the senseless sacrifice.

In the collapsed tenements around him thousands of Chinese soldiers gripped their rifles and prepared themselves. Crushed apartment buildings nearby held regiments of men who feared that this was their last hour on Earth. Tens of thousands of soldiers dug in that morning, hoping against hope they would stand, if only for a moment, long enough for the might of China to rally and throw the aliens into the sea.

Colonel Loi Cas stood in his hatch and scanned across the river with his binoculars; his night-vision goggles now tucked away in his leg pouch as morning's light filtered across the river. His own tank was well-hidden inside the remains of a destroyed book store, yet he could feel the presence of dozens of eyes upon him.

Quiet permeated the battlefield as his own side's few remaining guns fell silent. A flight of seabirds cruised along the river. Their cries and the lapping of the tide were the only sounds he could hear. The silence was almost a physical force.

He stared at the gray monster across the river from him. Its bulky hull stood upon four stilt-like legs. He noticed the chin guns on what he assumed was its head, as well as another pair along its 'ears'. The machine had a single long 'eye' on its head, and Cas wondered if that was where the crew sat, watching the Chinese build-up across from them.

With a creak and a thudding crash, the dragon-machine suddenly took a slow step forward. The vibration of the metal foot's impact was felt across the river and inside his own tank. River birds took flight at the sudden, thudding intrusion to their serenity. Cas swallowed hard and scanned across the front. Everywhere he looked the beasts were making their way forward.

"Driver, start engine."

His tank's liquid-cooled diesel engine sprung to life. Its 155mm main gun slowly traversed as it tracked the head of the nearest dragon-machine. Suddenly, the horizon lit up in the distance as if thousands of lightning bolts shot to the sky from the ground only a kilometer or two behind the enemy's front line.

"Incoming!"

He dropped into the tank, slamming the hatch shut behind him. "Gunner, fire!" The main gun snapped backwards inside the turret, spitting out its shell casing to clang loudly on the turret's floor, as the sabot round raced across the river to its target. Already the loader was reaching for another round to slam into the gun.

Before he could reach the tank-killing ammo, the three of them were lifted up, colliding with the roof of the turret before smashing back down. The loader's face exploded as it smacked into the breech of the gun. Cas recovered his dazed senses and righted himself enough to scan outside with the turret's periscope.

The sight that greeted him was right out of the West's version of Hell. High explosive laser and plasma rounds slammed down along the entire front. Soldiers and debris were being flung everywhere. Soldiers were burning. Infantry men were smashed with every round. Each blue-hued round taking a dozen lives in each impact. One of his tanks was sliced in four separate pieces as alien firepower found it.

Through glimpses in the fog of the battle he noted one of the dragon-machines on his right flank already standing at leisure in the river. Its tree-like legs disappeared in the deeper water mid-river while its dual chin-cannons walked super-heated death into one Chinese position after another.

Cas jumped across the turret and moved the wounded loader out of the way. Yelling orders at the gunner he felt the turret turning as he loaded another sabot round in the gun. Something big slammed into the ground next to the armored vehicle, turning is askew in its firing position. The gunner continued to correct his aim. "Fire!" Cas screamed.

The gun snapped backwards again as cordite smoke filled the cramped space. Cas moved over to his gun sight again. The dragon-machine had stopped moving halfway across the swirling river. "Where did you hit it?" He yelled at the gunner.

"Somewhere behind the head, I think. The neck maybe?" Cas scanned the target, sure enough he could see sunlight shining through a small hole in the tunnel that connected the beast's head to its hull. So they could be pierced after all, he thought. The machine lurched forward again, this time its head swung in his direction, looking for its attacker. Surely, there must be a way to kill it.

"Driver, reverse." The tank gave a lurch as it dug for traction in the rubble. Cas hoped none of the surrounding infantry were huddled behind his track for protection from the horrible artillery barrage falling on the rapidly collapsing Chinese front line. They crashed backwards through the remains of two buildings before they reached the tentative safety of a street behind their position. The driver was pivoting the tank around as surviving infantry ran out of the rubble to clamor aboard his track.

Cas popped his hatch and stood high in the turret, yelling orders that could barely be heard above the raging din and racket of the battle around him. Debris flew like popcorn through the streets, cutting through infantry like shrapnel. The energy barrage was so intense and thick Cas thought for a moment he could walk back to the secondary line on the top of each alien burst.

His decks were covered in Chinese soldiers, almost every one of them wounded. He ordered the driver to move out at top speed. The youngster behind the tank's controls did just that, smashing over cars and through brick walls alike in a random dash to the rear. Cas couldn't blame him; he could barely discern the presence of a road making its way through exploding and collapsed buildings.

Above him strange 'H' shaped fighters dove on the front lines with more of their deadly ordinance. He saw on his flanks, through breaks in the rubble, the dragon-machines were already through the primary defense lines and charging ahead through the city. Here and there his tank passed pockets of Chinese soldiers preparing roadblocks and barricades in their last seconds. Only once did he see another one of his tanks. Like his it was covered in infantry soldiers hitching a ride to perceived safety.

His diesel engine roared down an alleyway and he lost sight of the other tank. There wasn't any time to go back and look for it, let alone organize a defense or a retreat.

It was almost seven in the morning when they reached the secondary line of defense. He stopped the tank and the infantry dismounted rapidly as they looked for cover from the aliens that were on their tails. A field policeman ran up to his track. He saw Cas in the hatch and saluted quickly. "Colonel, all Chinese forces are to fall back to the A30 Expressway immediately!"

Cas hardly knew what to say. That roadway was already past the third and last line of defense that he was aware of. He yelled over the roar of his engine and the battle, "What happened?"

"Dozens of those dragon-machines broke through our lines up north in Hongkou. The 53rd Group Army has been smashed up and if we don't get moving there won't be any of the 31st left!" The field policeman explained.

At the time Colonel Loi Cas wondered if there would be anything left of China after the aliens were done with them.

His tank retreated.


	17. Eritech 2

**Command Bridge, Imperial-class SD _Insertion_, Earth Approach**

"Deck officer, send for Lieutenant Commander Eiryn." ISB Major Eritech ordered.

"Aye Aye, Captain." The officer of the watch answered to the man he knew only as Commander Volt, before relaying the orders into his C1 personal comlink. Ahead of the two officers, on the other side of the bridge's transparisteel viewport, was the rapidly approaching blue-green world of Earth.

The _Insertion_ was returning to the battle after having her tibanna supply topped off at the _Carbon_ refinery vessel. After the Ploo Squadron had resupplied the Theater Commander Moff Seco had granted the _Insertion_ next in line privileges at the gas pumps, much sooner than her sister warships in the Subterrel Squadron. Eritech had looked vengefully at the near tibanna-depleted Star Destroyers _Slash_ and _Flood_ filled with traitors to the 1st Galactic Empire.

With full heavy turboblaster turrets and surprise on his side, he could have made short work of the two vulnerable warships but he held his hand. Not only was he unsure whether or not his own starship's crew would have slaughtered their brethren in the other two vessels but the true prize would have escaped. The _Quill_, the flagship of Fleet Admiral Yos, would have been safe in its orbit around distant Mars. The presence of so many other vessels at the _Carbon_ site, barely crossed his mind as he fantasized about doling out Imperial Justice.

He looked out at the planet ahead. He tried to study the landmasses coming into focus as his ship made its approach. He stared down at his personal datapad and reread the order-of-the-day, issued by Moff Seco. Orbital bombardment of Earth's remaining urban centers had been put on hold for the time being. Instead, infrastructure and military targets as well as any target of opportunity were on the menu for the blaster batteries of the _Insertion_ today. In his mind he silently debated the pros and cons of that decision.

An obvious con stared him directly in the face as he glanced down at the white hull of his warship. On the surface of the center port-side sponson, almost a hundred enviro-suited engineers and damage-control party crewbeings worked tirelessly at repairing the damage caused by yesterday's explosion that had cost him his Number 4 Turret. Over-heating over the nation of the People's Republic of China had ruptured delicate fuel transfer equipment and a gas storage silo, ripping the turret from his ship. Nintey-two of his best Imperial Naval Gunners had lost their lives in the explosion.

The Fleet Admiral had never even sent an inquiry or offer of assistance.

Now with only five heavy turbolaser batteries he was heading for the Republic of India on a sub-continent of the largest continental mass of the planet ahead. His first targets were all dams that had either been damaged or bypassed in the ion attack launched a few months ago. He looked at the names of the targets; Srisailam Dam, Dul Hasti, Linganamakki, and Bhandardara to name a few, and thought the Earthlings spent too much time coming up with more and more syllables to put into their nomenclature.

He smiled when he saw the dark scar on the planet ahead. Target West could be made out by the enormous amount of blackened debris and smoke being kicked up and swept out over the blue Pacific. He could see half a dozen star destroyers ahead as well as almost a hundred heavy support vessels contributing to the fleet's operation in that part of the world. According to the invasion plans there was an almost identical fleet somewhere on the other side of the planet pounding the area around Target East. He knew that his own blast missions today would give no small amount of support to the troops landing dirtside in those combat-zones.

"Commander Eiryn reporting as ordered, Captain." The silky female voice tore him from his thoughts. He slowly turned and faced the curvy figure of the _Insertion's_ Gunnery Commander. He took a second to admire her in her tight-fitting gunner's uniform and thought for a second that there certainly was a proper place for female officers in the Imperial Navy, though he would never state where that place was in polite company.

"Welcome, Commander Eiryn. I'd like your opinion on the target package FleetOps sent over this morning." He handed her his datapad. The list was already pulled up on its holographic screen. The Gunner took it and started scanning down the target descriptions provided by fleet intelligence.

"We can handle it, Captain Volt, even if we are down one heavy turbolaser battery. As long as we don't have to spend time reducing any more cities we should have adequate firepower with the remaining heavy cannons for whatever we come across." She sounded confident, despite the loss of so many gunners under her command in yesterday's accident. He wondered how she felt about the accident but her level of professionalism forbade her from showing any emotion. He admired that quality in her.

"What do you think of these 'targets of opportunity' intelligence has briefed us about?" He reached across and pressed the appropriate command on the datapad. Images of Earth-made vehicles scrolled by.

"They look to be mainly primitive classes of hovertrains, larger landspeeders and hovertrucks, mainly of the cargo-hauling classes. Do I read this right that we are to ignore any hovertanks we come across?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at the order written out in holographic aurabesh.

"Um, oh yes, that. Fleet Intelligence believes if we knock out their fuel and supply-carrying vehicles, their troopers in the field will starve and their gas-turbine vehicles will run dry of a carbon-based fuel called petrol, rendering them inert. Moff Seco issued the orders himself and I must say it's a logical proposition."

"Very well, Sir. But it seems to be a bit of overkill for the dual heavies, may I propose we utilize the two forward banks of bow XX-9 heavy turbolaser batteries. The crews can fire independently on any targets they come across."

"The atmosphere won't have any degradation on their effectiveness?" Eritech asked.

"It would be negligible at the range we'll be engaging the aboriginals today, Sir. Any target we find will be sitting mynocks for my turbolasers"

"Fine, then. Tell the gun crews to engage only the necessary targets. I don't want them wasting tibanna on empty stretches of road either. Bridges and overpasses are alright. Everything else they should pass through either yourself or Target Acquisition and Tracking on the Bridge here," His hand motioned to the room about them. "Let's set up some kind of scoring system and the crew with the most targets destroyed can have a night at the Long Jump Casino when we return to Culter City. I'll even pick up the tab." That was one way to buy the crew's loyalty he thought.

"An excellent proposition, Captain." She grinned.

"Fifteen minutes till target areas, Captain." The Deck Officer announced. Eritech looked out the forward viewport and noted the planet Earth looming large in his vantage point. Already he could see his starship was on course over a large, barren ocean in its southern hemisphere. A flurry of activity began in the crew pits below as the crewmen prepared for battle.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain, I should see to my crews and inform them of your proposition. I'm sure it will be an astral hit amongst the Peewo and Beetle-heads down on the gun decks."

She started to replace her black helmet and turn but Eritech continued, "Commander, there are still a number of positions to be filled after last year's surprise attack. Have you ever given any thought to a commission in starship command?" She put her bucket under her arm and cocked her head while she considered his proposition.

With a slight smirk, she said, "Of course, Captain. I hardly had any hope in the old navy back home, but here in the Milky Way who knows what could happen? A girl would certainly be appreciative to anyone that could give her a 'leg up', as it were." Her grin widened, hinting that there was much more meaning than her words suggested.

"Astral. I would love to discuss it later, say over dinner?" He smiled back.

"That sounds wonderful. We will speak then, Captain." She replaced the helmet and saluted.

"Commander." he returned the salute and watched as she turned and walked off the bridge. The nearby Deck Officer just stared at him, trying to restrain a grin, but wisely keeping his mouth shut.

"Prepare for the first target." Eritech ordered the Bridge pit crew.

"First target is in range, Captain. All heavy turbolasers are standing by." The Target Acquisition and Tracking station reported.

"What is the first catch of the day?" He asked the gunnery officer in the pit below.

"Nagarjuna Sagar Dam, Captain. It was hit by the ion attack last year but the earthlings have made repairs to it since then."

"Time to put it to rest then. Put the target up on the Bridge's main holoprojector." The 3D image came to life on the starboard side of the bridge. Tiny, blue-hued earth landspeeders were fleeing the target like ants from a kicked over anthill. "Blast Heavy Turret 6. Two salvos." he ordered.

"Turret 6 blasting. Two salvos." The Targeting officer echoed. Outside his viewport one of his heavy turbolaser turrets fired a volley, followed forty-five seconds later by a second. The holoprojector showed the immediate effect as all four heavy blasts of energized plasma tore into different sections of the dam, releasing millions of liters of water and debris to flood and destroy dirtside towns and cities downstream.

At the same time several smaller caliber plasma blasts fired away from the port-side sponson near the nose of his star destroyer. He checked with the bridge's gunnery officer and verified the destruction of a convoy of Indian fuel haulers on a rural highway. Evidently the port-side gunners were off to an early lead in his little competition.

Within the next hour four more dams and their hydroelectric power plants were destroyed and the spirited competition between the gun decks netted another eighty truck kills and nine bridges dropped. The earthlings below were slowly being blasted back to the Copper Age he mused.

"The city of Cuttack is below us now, Captain." The Deck Officer informed him. Instantly, 3-D holoimages of the metropolis and intelligence about the city of a half million beings scrolled across his holoprojector. Nothing of great importance leapt out at him about the back-world poodoo-heap.

"One broadside with the starboard batteries on their rail yard and then plot us a course to our next target."

"Aye Aye, Captain." The deck officer once again echoed his orders to the crew below, while outside the three heavy turbolaser turrets eradicated another earth target. On the surface of the Indian city, thousands perished as the rolling stock in the railyard, filled with munitions for the Indian Army, exploded like a fission bomb. The eruption took a quarter of the city with it. High above the destruction, the _Insertion_ was already moving on to its next target area.

The morning passed in much the same manner. The contest below decks racked up a score well into the hundreds, with each point representing a truck or cargo carrier that was no longer hauling freight below. Eritech stayed on top of his own warship's operations but couldn't resist peering out the viewport at other nearby Star Destroyers going through their own target packages. Though suffering through the handicap of being one turret down he was determined to stay ahead of his rivals.

"Captain, we are being hailed by the _Wilderness_. It's Moff Seco himself, Sir." The crewman at the HyperRad station informed him.

"Put it up on my holoimager." The 3D visual image of an Indian military base in the foothills of the Himalayas changed to one of the Theater Commander. The blue image was dressed in the proper white uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral. Eritech smiled at the showmanship that was obviously aimed at the Fleet Admiral back on Mars.

"Captain Volt, I hear congratulations are in order. From what I understand the _Insertion_ is keeping pace with the rest of the fleet despite your unfortunate set-back during yesterday's operations."

"Thank you, Sir. We are finally paying the Earth Scum back for what they did to the _Insertion_ last year." The fact that he stood on the deck of a newly constructed bridge testified to the ferocity of that attack. The deaths of over four thousand of her crew gave the remaining sailors aboard the Star Destroyer reason to seek revenge.

"Yes, I have been watching your progress with great interest. You have paid the enemy back several thousand times over by my own estimates."

"It has been an honor and pleasure, Sir." Eritech's chest swelled with pride. Of all the officers of treachorous _Tarkin's Fist_ the Ploo governor was the one that still seemed to retain some small amount of the proper Imperial spirit in Eritech's eyes.

"I was curious to see if you would join me aboard the _Wilderness_ today for lunch. There are several things about the campaign dirtside that I would like to hear your opinion on." Moff Seco politely asked what he could have simply ordered.

"Of course, Sir. My shuttle can be at your location in an hour. My crews are competent enough to continue with their assigned blasting missions without me for an hour or two." Naturally suspicious of the Imperial Navy, Eritech successfully disguised his mistrust of the invitation. Though Moff Seco may show signs of having the proper Imperial fervor, as a member of _Tarkin's Fist_ he was still a traitor to the Emperor.

"Excellent, the _Wilderness_ will be. . ." The blue hologram turned to check some data off-screen, ". . . over the city of Perth, on the big southern island continent, in one hour. I will send you the coordinates. I look forward to meeting you, Captain Volt"

"It will be an honor for me as well, Sir. I shall see you in one hour." Eritech saluted as Moff Seco cut the transmission off, his blue image being replaced by the next target on his vessel's gunnery list. "Have my pilot prepare my shuttle. I will be away from the _Insertion_ for several hours. I want this ship to continue its blasting missions until I return. Understood?"

"Aye Aye, Captain." The Deck Officer responded. Several crewmen in the pit below stirred to carry out his orders. The undercover spy turned on his heels and headed for the turbolifts to the flight hanger. Within minutes the _Insertion's Lambda_ shuttle was streaking towards his meeting with the Theater Commander. Eritech spent the time going over progress reports on the repairs that were ongoing back at the _Insertion's_ Turret 4. His anger still simmered under the surface at the indignation of being the only Star Destroyer to take casualties, not once, but twice in the past year.

Eritech realized he was distracting himself with mundane reports so as not to have to deal with the fact that he had no idea what he'd be walking into on the _Wilderness_, even though he still had the supreme confidence that he'd be able to handle anything the Imperial Governor threw at him.

Ahead of him, the ISD _Wilderness_ momentarily ceased its bombardment of the western Australian coast and dropped its particle deflector shields as his shuttle came in for a landing in its brightly lit hanger bay.

Eritech was surprised when he walked down the boarding ramp and was greeted by an honor guard of twelve Imperial Marines led by no less than Admiral Neptu, the commander of the Ploo Sector Fleet and Moff Seco's second in command. Eritech whipped off a proper salute at the bottom of the ramp.

"Greetings, Captain Volt. An honor to finally meet you. Moff Seco is expecting you on the Flag Bridge. If you'll follow me."

"Of course, Admiral, please lead the way." Eritech fell into stride with Neptu as the marines moved into position behind them as they made their way through the interior of the massive Star Destroyer. Although being the same ship-class as his own _Insertion_, Eritech could have found his way easily enough. The only difference between the two ships was the presence of an Admiral's Flag Bridge located above the vessel's normal Command Bridge. Gaining access to the heavily guarded area would have been impossible without the presence of Admiral Neptu. The guards fell aside as the two men entered the lair of Moff Seco.

Even when shown the proper honors that befit his position a lifetime of training under some of the most sinister instructors of the ISB insured that Eritech maintained his guard.

The room itself appeared much like a working bridge except for the furniture and carpeting that reminded Eritech of holoimages he had once seen of the Emperor's old chancellery offices on Imperial Center. Several huge Holomaps in the room showed scenes of the Earth campaign beneath them. Moff Seco rose from a chair near the room's large viewport. The entry door closed, leaving the three men to hold their meeting in private. An R-10 Household Droid quietly brewed a pot of Karlini tea.

"Captain Volt, a great pleasure to finally meet you. Please, come join the Admiral and I for a cup of tea or a cup of caf if you'd prefer." Moff Seco indicated several chairs in a semi-circle near the viewport. Each man made his way to one of them.

"Thank you, Sir. Tea is fine" Eritech replied as he sat down and took an offered cup from the expensive service droid. His gaze stayed frozen on the Ploo Moff as if he were stalking a circling nexu.

"Tell me, Captain, what is your opinion of our operations currently underway dirtside?" Admiral Neptu asked.

Eritech carefully weighed his answers. He knew scuttlebutt amongst the fleet was that Moff Seco hadn't exactly admired the Fleet Admiral's plan. In fact he had labeled it too timid and lacking in the proper Imperial spirit of conquest. Eritech couldn't find fault in that arguement. "From what I am hearing, the operations in Target East and West are being handled superbly by you and your staff. The aboriginal near-humans there haven't got a clue about what hit them."

"Do you think we'll hold those Target cities?" Moff Seco inquired.

"Of course, Sir. When has the Stormtrooper Corps ever lost anything?" he replied easily.

"What do you think of the orbital bombardment yesterday?" Neptu asked, Eritech suspected that this was a carefully choreographed interview by the two high-ranking Imperials. He advised himself to be cautious in his answers and not to give too much away before he knew where their loyalties lay.

"Honestly, Sir, I think it was too short and the earthlings had too much time to prepare their defenses and abandon their cities. I trust you read my After-Action Report on the Chinese laser weapon that attacked my vessel yesterday."

"Yes, it was troubling. I wonder what these Terrans will develop once they get a taste of our technology. As you know I argued for total occupation of the Earth or a Base Delta Zero instead of the Fleet Admiral's more timid plan. . ."

"But My Moff, where would we have gotten the troops to. . ." Neptu interupted, but ceased when a momentary fire in Moff Seco's eyes cut him off. Eritech felt an instant respect for a leader that could inspire such fear in a subordinate.

". . . As for the bombardment, we had hoped for at least a twenty percent kill-off of earth's indigenous population, but due to the Fleet Admiral's 'mishandling' of operations, we are estimating we only eliminated about ten to fifteen percent. The ones we missed will no doubt be taking up arms against our troopers on the ground. The _Insertion's_ Legion is dirtside is it not?" Moff Seco asked.

"Uh, yes Sir, the 395th Legion was part of the second wave landed at Target East this morning. Reports are they are pushing inland quite well."

"Excellent. Tell me, have you been keeping abreast of happenings on Mars in the past week?" Moff Seco asked before casually taking a sip of his tea.

"Not too much, Sir. The _Insertion_ keeps me busy enough. Are you referring to all the name changing going on?"

"Precisely. Mars this, Martian that. All of it lunacy. Have you heard that Fleet Admiral Yos is planning a coronation for himself and his young daughter?" Eritech shook his head and Moff Seco shared coolly, "He's going to be our new Emperor."

Rage boiled inside the ISB agent. "I had heard that the little bra... I mean, the Chief Ambassador, has been addressed as a princess by the beings of Mars but I hadn't dared to believe the Fleet Admiral would dare such vile decadence. It is an affront to Palpatine and the New Order. It is destroying what we are as a Navy, It's, it's. . ." He stammered unable to wrap his mind around this shocking news. For a moment he feared that he might have given himself away in the heat of anger and chided himself on such an uncontrolled burst of emotion.

"Oh, I am in total agreement. If we lose sight of what we are, who's to say what we will become? Let me ask you something else. How old do you think the Fleet Admiral is?" Moff Seco pondered. Eritech wondered if he were being reeled in slowly.

"I'm not sure, somewhere in his sixties or early seventies I believe." He regained his composure, a momentary thought of being played by the crafty Moff was pushed aside.

"Quite right, and if something were to happen to our soon-to-be Martian Emperor, where would the balance of power on Mars lay?"

Eritech considered the question. The obvious answer was whoever still had control of _Tarkin's Fist_. "The Fleet, Sir."

"Excellent, it is with no doubt that the Ploo Squadron would follow me anywhere, but what of the Anoat, Kuati, or Subterrelian Squadrons. A man who could bring me the vessels of the Subterrel would find me to be a very appreciative friend." Moff Seco suggested, and Eritech, though still distrustful, had no difficulty reading through the lines to the heart of the Moff's proposal. "He could in fact, find himself in high placement for returning this new Martian civilization to the Imperial fold."

After years of distrust towards the officers of the Imperial Navy his guard finally dropped as Eritech swallowed the offered bait.

The ISB spy sat back in his lounge chair and considered the task being set before him. Of course it would have to be a secret, and one they would have to act on sooner than later. No point in waiting around for the Fleet Admiral to pass away naturally. Operations _Piper_ and _Stork_, currently underway on Earth, will only strengthen the Fleet Admiral's position in the long run on Mars. Also there was the issue that the Subterrel Squadron would never follow him as long as the _Quill_ still sailed. Suddenly a solution popped into his mind, as he thought of what was hidden under his bunk back aboard the _Insertion_.

"I think you may be speaking to that man." Eritech said.

"Amazing, I knew when I heard about you from my old friend Armand Isard, that you could be a man that could be trusted. That's why I suggested your involvement with our Moff here." Neptu stated, indicating Seco.

Eritech's heart froze. How had the Director of Imperial Intelligence in the Home Galaxy heard about him? A predatory grin spread slowly across Moff Seco's face. "Captain Volt, you are Major Tolos Eritech of the Imperial Security Bureau, are you not?"

"I, I, no I. . ." Eritech stammered again. His mind raced. How did they know? Why hadn't he brought a sidearm with him, or his suicide teeth? The enemy in Fleet Intelligence would never get anything out of him, he firmly told himself. Wait, why hadn't Moff Seco and Admiral Neptu turned him over?

"It's alright Major. You are among friends. Admiral Neptu was warned by Isard only a few hours before the 'big jump', and then he was only given a name, your name, as a possible mole or saboteur. The presence of a mauler virus, your placement on the _Insertion_, and the Bureau of Operation's own investigation, all led Admiral Neptu and myself to your doorstep. It has been with our assistance that the investigation has been hindered time and time again." Seco explained.

"I assume I am in debt to you gentlemen. I believe we have an understanding as to what price I must pay for your continued assistance."

"The Subterrel Squadron, with or without the _Quill_." Neptu stated.

"Indeed, I believe a man of your skills can take care of both of those birds with one stone." Seco suggested.

"No doubt, Sir. I have something in mind. You just need to be ready when the time is right."

"Oh, rest assured, I will be." Seco smiled. They spent the rest of the lunch discussing the details of their treacherous enterprise. An hour later Eritech was rocketing back to the _Insertion_ aboard his shuttle.

He was still lost in thought when he entered his quarters later that evening. He was torn from his distraction by a noise from the bedroom. When he entered, Lieutenant Commander Eiryn lay across his sheets, dressed in a silky outfit that left little to the imagination. "I thought you'd like to discuss my new 'position' in a more intimate situation."

"Oh, yes?" He smirked. "I believe we have many future 'positions' to discuss tonight."

He took her in his arms as the door to the room closed behind him.


	18. Jason 2

**Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, Hawaii, NAU, Earth**

The sun-baked, white sand of Waikiki had kept him warm throughout the night after his worn, shell-shocked body had finally collapsed from exhaustion. Jason Bogan chased the sleep from his eyes as he slowly brought himself up to a sitting position. He leaned on his elbows and stared at the rising sun on the eastern horizon.

Several seabirds flew over the dazzling blue Pacific, diving for their breakfast amongst Hawaii's native fish. The slowly dawning sun promised another warm day in the Aloha state. Jason realized that he had only been asleep for a few hours before awakening and being greeted by this scene straight out of a heavenly dream of paradise. He looked to his left and noted his two friends sleeping soundly on the sand next to him.

He shifted his perspective and slowly took in the several hundred other people sleeping along the beach. The smell of smoke filled the air, covering the scents of salt and sand that normally accompanied the beach. Then he remembered everything as ash lazily rained down around him.

He scooped up a handful of sand absentmindedly and quickly realized it wasn't gritty sand, but mostly soft gray ash. Instead of falling through his fingers it became airborne, flittering away in the breeze.

He stiffly stood up and turned around to be greeted by a scene straight out of hell. Honolulu burned. From Diamond Head in the south-east to Ewa Beach well to the west of him giant, rolling columns of smoke and ash rose into the sky. In front of him the Queen Kapiolani Hotel was a smoldering, collapsed bonfire. Only a few citizens were battling the blaze with buckets from the ocean. The local fire department was nowhere to be seen. They must be needed more urgently somewhere else, he figured, or they were no longer amongst the survivors still sheltering on the island of Oahu. A thick haze of smoke hung over the city and the only thing saving him from the need to cover his mouth and nose was a breeze that came in from the ocean and scoured the air.

A thunderous roar rolled in from Pearl City to the north-west and caught his attention. Pearl Harbor was still a mass of black plumes from the fires at the military facilities there, but in between the pillars of oily smoke he noted several energy filled plasma bursts still falling on the remains of Hawaii's defenders. The blasts reminded him of those that had fallen on the stricken city the day before from that diamond-shaped alien UFO mothership that had bombarded them.

Throughout the night the alien artillery barrage had grown and grown. Some National Guard and NAU Army soldiers had told him and his friends that the aliens had taken the rest of the Hawaiian Island chain and were now shelling the populous island with their long-range artillery, presumably as a prelude for an invasion. Then before more questions could be asked most of the soldiers had received orders and pulled back into the naval facilities of Pearl Harbor.

It was the area undergoing the heaviest bombardment from the enemy and the logical place to fend off an invasion. After all hadn't that been the area the Japanese had bombed in World War II?

A tearing noise from the Punchbowl volcano slope tore his mind from the devastation in front of him. A streak of rockets roared off of some kind of American rocket-launcher up there. Jason was glad someone was still able to hit back at the aliens. He followed their white, smoky trails as they disappeared to the south-east. A moment later an energy explosion crashed down on the spot the rockets had been firing from. Jason hoped those soldiers up there on the mountainside had had the sense to move out of there before the counter-attack slammed in.

Jason nudged both of his friends in the ribs with his foot in an effort to wake them. Eddie blinked awake first. Rick moaned, "A few more minutes, Mom."

"Wake up. Sun is coming up." Jason informed him as his stomach grumbled. "We need to find some food."

Eddie sat in the sand and held his arms outwards, studying them. The three of them were covered in sand and white ash from the burning apocalypse behind them. "We look like ghosts."

"Those don't" Rick sat up and pointed out to sea. Jason's heart stopped as he saw what his friend was pointing at. Thousands of black dots on the horizon were growing larger and larger by the second. He somehow knew it wasn't an on-rushing rescue for the stricken island. Spilling out of Pearl City, the alien's artillery barrage suddenly reached an ear-shattering crescendo.

The three students flattened out on the sand as the barrage walked across the city's beachfront. Rick was screaming. Eddie tried to dig a hole underneath his prone body. Jason just kept his eyes on the approaching unidentified flying objects as the closest ones formed into 'H' shapes. Within seconds the blue machines flashed low across the beach heading inland. Jason could hear the high-pitched whine of their engines as they raced by.

Squatter 'H' and 'M' shaped fighters roared over the dumb-struck young men next. Almost directly overhead, one of the aircraft released a glowing blue ball of energy. Jason's eyes watched in slow-motion as the craft's forward momentum carried the ball a block inland. When the blue glow-ball hit the ground it exploded more powerfully than anything Jason had ever felt. His whole body was lifted up off of the sand and slammed back onto the beach by the blast's concussion.

His ears felt clogged for a few seconds and he wasn't sure how long it was before he regained the breath that was knocked from his lungs. Suddenly both of his ears popped and all the sound in the world returned. Explosions from the first wave of bombers rocked across the stricken city. Debris and pieces of what Jason hoped weren't other human beings rained down across the beach. The hundreds of people on the beach started running in every direction. Some of them splashed into the ocean while others charged back into the hell that was once Honolulu.

His mind barely registered the line of glowing bombs that fell from another alien craft as a second wave of bombers appeared overhead. One of the red and white 'M'-shaped assault craft dropped its stick of explosives early and its load of bombs hurled at the white sandy beach still clogged with refugees and three terrified students from the east coast.

"Run!" Jason heard someone scream realizing a moment later that he was the one yelling.

Eddie was up and running towards the deceptive shelter of the nearby seawall when the first bomb hit the surf, sending up a geyser of mud and water that soared hundreds of feet into the air. The next series of impacts sent sand and body parts flying in every direction. Jason reached over to pull Rick along and was surprised to be tugging on dead-weight. "Rick?"

He pulled his prone friend over on his back. Rick's eyes stared lifelessly towards the sky as sand continued to rain down on them. Jason looked up and down the body looking for a wound, but was surprised not to locate blood seeping from anywhere on his friend's body. Jason barely realized tears were streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. . ." He cried over and over again.

"Oh my God?" He heard Eddie stammer behind him. Evidently he had realized he wasn't being followed and returned to their side, "Is he. . ."

"Yes, he must have been. . .must have been hit by the concussion from one of those bomb blasts." He waved his arm at the bombers receding into the city. A block inland one of the alien 'M' bombers dropped a precision bomb on an anti-aircraft gun that had opened up on the attackers. It had been the first resistance to the airborne assault Jason had seen, but his mind barely registered it over the grief he was feeling at the loss of his friend.

"Have you tried CPR?" Eddie asked, fear breaking his voice.

"No, I don't know it. Do you?"

"Not really, just what you see on TV and Health class but I've never tried it. We should go find help." Eddie started to rise but looked down the beach at the dozens of wounded and dying along its length and then stopped, not knowing what to do next.

"Stay. . . stay, we need to stay together." Jason gasped between sobs, and Eddie just nodded in response. They both sat in the sand beside their dead friend and wept out of fear and loss. They had seen enough death in the past day to last them the rest of their lives. This had been the first time anyone close to either of them had ever been lost.

Overhead the mysterious 'H' fighters finished off the last anti-aircraft defenses of the city, while the squatter 'H' fighters ripped apart the convoys of National Guard and Army units pouring out of Pearl City. The defense of the Hawaiian Islands was broken.

The appearance of hundreds of alien aircraft streaming towards Waikiki beach tore the boys from their grief. These new types of craft were as big as houses and reminded Jason of helicopters without the spinning blades. On the sides of the crafts' hulls he saw bubble pods bristling with alien guns.

The huge craft held their fire as they descended on the beach. The first formation of them landed on the sand while the following waves made for landing points further into the city. One of them touched down no more than twenty meters from Eddie and Jason. Its side doors were wide open and a door gunner pointed a weird looking machine gun in their direction. Jason held his breath in what he figured was his last moment on Earth, but the gunner just kept them in his gun-sights as he provided cover for the white-clad soldiers pouring out of the crafts' doors.

Jason thought they were soldiers, though they could have been robots. It was hard to tell, though they certainly moved like people did. The alien soldiers moved in rushes as they charged past the survivors on the beach and across the beach's boardwalk. Each group provided cover as another group advanced to the next cover, and then their roles would reverse. The robot-soldiers carried short, stubby-looking, black sub-machine guns, from what Jason could tell. After the first rush cleared the beach, squads of the soldiers carrying much heavier weapons followed in their wake.

Another alien craft landed further down the beach. This time the new arrival detached an odd looking, six-legged walking bug-tank with a wicked-looking cannon mounted on its upper deck. The carrier craft roared off into the sky while the armored behemoth continued to lumber inland, ready to provide fire-support for the white camouflaged soldiers. Jason was just glad the beastly-looking contraption was moving away from him.

Suddenly two amazingly fast, flying motorcycles roared up to a group of alien soldiers that had the appearance of a command group. Less armored aliens rode the bikes and handed something to a soldier that looked like he was commanding the invasion. Jason literally blinked and the flying motorcycles were gone again.

A line of alien soldiers was making its way down the beach. Jason quickly realized they were rounding up survivors and herding them into a containment area encircled by a number of soldiers standing guard. Jason stood to run, tugging on Eddie's shirt sleeve as he rose, but another identical line of aliens was coming from the opposite direction. The only way they could escape was into the surf and neither of them was up for swimming to the Californias.

Instead the two students stood guard over their fallen friend as the first screening line reached them. "You two, hands up!" one of the 'robot-soldiers' ordered through an electric-sounding speaker on its helmet. A pair of aliens took up flanking positions on the two students as the rest of the line of aliens moved down the beach checking for more survivors amongst the bodies on the sand.

A second soldier with circle marks on his shoulder armor and a thin circle on his helmet bent down and checked Rick's body. "This one's gone."

"This one is wounded." The first soldier stated, as he jabbed the muzzle of his gun into Jason's chest. The alien pointed at Jason's arm. For the first time he looked at his own arm and saw that he was bleeding from a jagged opening across his deltoid muscle. He hadn't even noticed he had been hit by anything in the shock of the invasion and the death of his friend.

The second soldier rose from Rick's body and stepped over. "It's alright, I'm a medic. Let me look at your arm."

"You're human?" Eddie spouted out, before Jason could ask the same.

"Yeah, what did you expect? Clankers?" Jason had no idea what the medic meant and wasn't given a chance to ask as the alien gripped his arm. He took something out of one of the canisters on his belt and aimed it at Jason's wound. A cool spray made contact with the wound and turned into a strange, gloopy gel. He was dumb-founded as the gel hardened into a weird type of dressing. "That spray-bandage will hold for a day or so. Don't mess with it too much and the trace amount of bacta in it should have you healed up by then." Jason had no idea what any of that meant but nodded in mock understanding.

The other soldier nudged him in the chest again with his weapon while the last trooper pushed Eddie ahead of him. "Now get moving Abo, let's keep your hands on your heads." Both of the MIT students clasped their hands on top of their heads as they were led down the beach with another dozen prisoners. After ten minutes of walking they came upon an assembly area on the boardwalk.

Hundreds of other native Hawaiians and tourists were gathered there, with hundreds more being led out of the ruins of Honolulu by what seemed to be an endless army of the white-clad aliens. Sounds of the peetering battle seemed to be receding further inland as the alien army continued to engage the last of Hawaii's defenders.

The prisoners were lined up single file before entering a strange, razor-wire encircled enclosure. Several aliens were patting down the prisoners before forcing them to enter. Jason noted a large pile of shoes and personal belongings to one side of the line as he neared the front. Eventually it was his turn to be searched, and an alien performed a rather intimate pat-down of his body. They made him remove his shoes, his small MP3 player, his wallet and ID cards, and his belt, all of which were pitched into the growing pile of discarded items. Eddie fared no better, except that he also lost a gold chain which was pocketed by the alien performing his search. He noted they were taking the rings and earrings from the prisoners and putting them in separate bins from everything else they removed from the humans around him. He heard quite a few complaints from people upset about losing their wedding rings. One stubborn woman lost a finger when she refused to cooperate and that stopped any dissention for the moment.

A man nearby suddenly jumped one of the aliens and knocked him to the ground, attempting to rip the alien's armor from his suit. Several other guards jumped on the prisoner and severely beat him with their rifle butts until he was a bloody mess. Suddenly an alien rode up on a small, bipedal walker. Jason could tell by the way the guards saluted the newcomer that he was some type of officer. "You, you, you, and you." The officer pointed at four random prisoners in the line. Each of the indicated Hawaiians was pulled out of the column of prisoners and roughly man-handled next to the prisoner that had attacked the guard. Without a word several guards raised their weapons and laser light bullets cut down the helpless Americans.

"Phasers!" Jason gasped.

"Let this be a lesson for all of you. Attack a stormtrooper and five of you die. Kill a stormtrooper and twenty-five of you die. This is what you deserve for resisting the Empire." The man atop the robotic-mount turned his vehicle away and bounded across the beach. Jason was too awe-struck by the senseless murder to resist. The guards pushed him ahead as they continued with their search of the prisoners.

Inside the razor-wire compound he stuck close to Eddie. A weird mist was being sprayed down upon the prisoners as they rested on the beach. Eddie spoke up and yelled at a pair of alien soldiers outside of the wire. "Hey excuse me, ET Guy! What is this stuff you're spraying us with? DDT or something?"

The stormtroopers, as Jason had heard the officer call them, turned to Eddie. "It's just disinfectant spray you filthy Abo." Several other stormtroopers seemed to be laughing under their helmets at their buddy's comment. "Can't have all your kriffing diseases reaching Mars." The two soldiers turned their backs to Eddie and ignored him from their side of the wire.

From the entrance to the enclosure, the line of prisoners snaked across the beach and back into the city. Jason witnessed two more executions as newly arrived people tried to assault the guards. Near the start of the line a group of human prisoners was being separated by the stormtroopers. Their moans and cries are what first drew Jason's attention to them. Heavily bandaged and burned individuals lay untreated in the white sand that was rapidly being stained red by their blood-loss. The aliens had a few men standing guard over them but for the most part they were ignoring them.

"They're letting them die." Jason observed.

"They look like our most heavily wounded. It doesn't look like the aliens want to waste anything on them." Eddie answered as Jason absent-mindedly scratched his spray-bandage. A woman nearby called to the guards that she was a doctor and could help but the aliens silently ignored her.

Just as Jason was starting to wonder if the aliens cared about the wounded and dying at all three floating stretchers guided by their medics came levitating out of the smoking city ruins. Two of the wounded aliens on the stretchers had their helmets off as their comrades led over to one of the house-sized flying landing craft. Jason could have sworn the two soldiers he saw were twins, if not brothers.

What appeared to be highly trained medical corpsmen worked on the wounded stormtroopers as they loaded them into the craft. An alien ground crewman with orange guidance cones in his hands signaled for the craft to take off while the pilot made some kind of spinning hand gesture from the cockpit. Jason watched with his mouth agape as the flying ambulance shot off for orbit; creating a sonic boom over the devastated beach.

"I hope they bleed out in route." Someone in the crowd observed.

"And then burn in Hell for what they did here." Someone else added with hate dripping from every word.

A whine from the ocean brought his attention back to the Pacific. A line of tri-winged white shuttles made their approach towards the concentration of Earth prisoners. The armored ground crewman guided them in with his flashing cones. The first in line made a slow approach, raising its lower two wings up like an old WWII navy fighter, before making a soft landing on the beach.

A gate in the enclosure opened and the guards there started pulling people out of the wire and onto the shuttle. The surge of closely-packed humanity carried Eddie and Jason towards the entrance but just as they arrived the gate closed in their faces. On board the shuttle the prisoners were packed in tightly like sardines. Jason heard a groan as the loading ramp was raised again and the prisoners were squeezed in even tighter.

The first shuttle departed, replaced quickly by a second. Once again the loading procedure repeated and the gate reopened, this time the surge carried the two young men into the shuttle as well. Jason was packed in so tightly he could barely breathe. Eddie was a few yards away but there was no way they could move to reach each other. The ramp closed again, pitching the cargo compartment into blackness only pierced by a pair of windows along the hull of the craft. A large steel door separated the prisoners from whatever flight crewmen the shuttle had.

Jason felt the sudden upward acceleration of the craft as it rocketed away from its launch point. His biggest fear was what lay ahead at the shuttle's final destination. Stories of alien abductions raced through his mind, interrupted by fears of never seeing home or his family again, or worse as he thought of poor Rick, left to rot on a far away beach.

"We're in space!" Someone near the windows exclaimed after a minute or two of travel. Wild shock and speculation ran through the tightly packed crowd. Jason wanted badly to move to one of the windows for a better view but found he was firmly stuck in place. For a moment he wondered why he wasn't feeling any weightlessness from being in orbit before figuring the aliens used some form of artificial gravity like they did on the Star Trek movies.

Forty-five minutes later his legs had started to go numb from lack of circulation when the shuttle's engines seemed to quiet down just before there was a jarring bump as the craft landed. Jason tried to swallow his fears as an unnatural hush came across the captives. Loud metallic thumps and noises came from outside the alien spaceship. The ramp on the rear of the shuttle dropped and the release of pressure on the prisoners pulled them towards the opening.

Jason and Eddie followed the mass of captives into a huge, brightly-lit hanger bay. Dozens of other shuttles and other types of small spacecraft were parked around the hanger but what drew Jason's immediate attention was some kind of force-field over the door to the hanger. Outside of the giant doorway he was shocked to see the cratered terrain of the moon, and he was physically awed at the sight of the Earth hanging in the void of space.

Eddie tried to say something but was pushed forward by more of those stormtrooper guards from Hawaii. Ahead of them thousands of his fellow prisoners were being processed by aliens in what appeared to be yellow HazMat suits. Jason quickly caught up to his friend in an effort to stick together as the captives were sorted into lines.

The first station was a series of changing booths. An alien in a bio-hazard suit ordered everyone to change into red overall utility suits. Jason thought about refusing until he witnessed the guards utilize a new weapon on a hapless prisoner. The guards here were armed with long tazer sticks that sent painful electric shocks through whoever they touched. By the way a stricken prisoner was twitching on the deck of the hanger in intense pain, Jason quickly figured the sticks were more than effective.

He ducked in a booth and quickly changed into the utility suit. Once again emerging, an alien ordered him to dispose of his old clothes in a growing laundry heap outside of the changing booths. Eddie fell into place behind him as they were put into another line. The disinfection mist was liberally sprayed on the prisoners by aliens with chemical backpack sprayers as the boys were ushered towards the next station.

The next check-point involved several aliens that held up medical devices that took Jason's vital signs before placing him before a robot with the appearance of a trashcan-spider hybrid. Guards stood over each prisoner as the robots took blood and fluid samples from the earthlings. It was a painful and intrusive experience as Jason was poked, prodded and drained of several fluids. Several prisoners continued to scream throughout the entire invasive process despite being shocked several times by the guard's stun sticks.

Jason figured his own examination lasted no more than five minutes but when he looked around again Eddie was nowhere to be seen. He swiveled his head rapidly around the hanger until he noticed his friend being led to another enclosure at the far side of the hanger. His friend was placed inside a ring of glowing bars of energy with dozens of other hapless looking prisoners. Jason tapped an alien in a yellow suit on the shoulder, a guard approached with his tazer stick, but before he could use it, the alien technician asked, "What is it?"

"Those prisoners, over there. My friend is with them. I was wondering why they're separated." Jason asked as humbly as he could.

The alien looked to where he had indicated. "Those beings? Those are the diseased. They're going back to Earth with the returning shuttles. You earthling scum can waste your own resources on them." The alien turned back to its original task.

Jason was in shock. He had known Eddie since they were freshmen together. Yes, his friend was diabetic, but he took insulin to maintain and watched what he ate. Other than that he was the healthiest guy he knew. He suddenly felt completely alone as he realized he had just lost a second friend that day.

With a sudden push the line surged forward. Guards menacingly waved their tazer sticks at him and he moved along as well, quickly losing sight of his last friend.

Aliens in bio-suits continued to examine him. They scanned his retinas, took more blood samples, examined his teeth, took his fingerprints, mapped his DNA, and even painfully took a bone marrow sample from his shoulder blade. The oddest part of the process was when he was placed on a gurney in front of a human-looking robot. The next thing he knew he had been knocked out.

He woke up again with a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He reached back there and felt a tiny scar and bandage. He was forced to stand again by the alien guards. He was then made to re-enter another line of prisoners. All of them dressed in the red utility suits and sporting new tiny bandages on the backs of their necks.

Hour after hour passed until he reached the far end of the hanger. Here the aliens were no longer dressed in the yellow HazMat suits and he got his first look at them. Most of them appeared human but he couldn't keep his eyes off of a strange, blue alien who appeared to have two tentacles growing from his head. He gasped when he spotted a werewolf, a walrus-man, a hammer-head shark man, and a tiny rat guy amongst the aliens. They all were dressed in a gray uniform, much like their human counter-parts.

When Jason approached their station he was outfitted with some heavy duty boots, a thick jacket, a stocking cap, several pairs of thick socks, and some utility gloves. Looking at the issued gear Jason figured he was being sent somewhere chilly.

At the end of the hanger was a massive, cylindrical alien transport. He joined a long line of prisoners being forced to embark on the craft. He walked up the gangplank and was led down a long hallway to a giant hold. Jason figured that the empty space was about the size of a football stadium and it was slowly being filled with captive humans.

Jason found a space against one of the far walls and made himself comfortable. A short nap later he was awakened by a public address system echoing through the hold. Jason noted the hold was almost filled with prisoners by this point as he stared out at a sea of red-suited humanity.

The announcer bellowed, "Welcome aboard the Imperial Cargo Ship _Chain._ Next port of call, Mars." Jason gasped along with the thousands around him.


	19. Phasma 2

**'Shimi's' Dress Boutique, Avenue of the Empress Teta's Fields, Culter City, Mars**

Phasma Yos was still having difficulty coming to grips with her sudden change of fortune. Here she stood being fitted by a team of seamstresses in the finest gown shop along the most expensive shopping district of Culter City, when twenty-four hours ago she had been a prisoner of war and had killed her first being in cold blood.

The young girl closed her eyes tightly. The memory of the earthling Sarah's head exploding upon impact with her blaster bolt was ingrained in her mind. A slight tug on her dress from the tailors taking her measurements brought her back into the present and she reopened her eyes. She gazed at herself in one of the many full-length mirrors set up along one wall of the boutique, amazed at the simple beauty of the dress they were creating around her.

She wore an intricate, pastel blue, off-the-shoulder gown. The bodice was decorated with diamond shapes and the long, sheer sleeves with Jorallan pearls. The gown's hem was adorned with intricate needlework that continued even onto the long, fan-like train that spread out behind her. On her head she wore a diadem decorated with krayt-dragon pearls. Her hair was tied up into two buns, one on each side of her head, held in place with a delicate, purple headpiece.

She wondered how many months or even years she would have to save her 2nd Lieutenant's wages to pay for a dress like this, and yet the owner of Shimi's was giving it to her for free. The only stipulation was that she wore the dress to her father's coronation in two days. She had made the same deal with the most preeminent Meshakian jewelers of Culter City.

Shimi herself helped with the tiniest details of the gown, supervising her apprentice seamstresses in the alterations that were currently taking place. As she supervised, the golden-haired Bothan talked. "Of course, as you may well know, we had samples of the most cutting-edge designs from all across the home galaxy before we all undertook the 'Big Jump'. The Good Moff Kuat and I go way back, and my dear Kuantus was able to secure for me samples of what passes for fashion on that backwater Earth planet." Shimli giggled at her own joke.

"I declare, I used to think we had lived under Palpatine's 'Imperial' fashion sense for too long but the draconian tastes of these Earthers seems downright dull by anyone's comparison. I dare say a designer would have to be a little mad to want to copy any of their designs." The Bothan seemed to love the sound of her own voice but she had lost Phasma at the word, 'copy'.

Phasma was a clone. The very thought haunted her and she relived the moment the earthling torturer had revealed it to her over and over. After her rescue and reunification with her father Captain Yutu of the Bureau of Operations had quietly run a test of her DNA that had confirmed the allegation that had so shocked the Earthlings.

Yutu had promised to keep her inquiry under wraps. After all, the Intelligence Director had told her, the Fleet Admiral must have had his own reasons for keeping the secret. Phasma had spent a lot of time since her return wondering what those reasons were.

Other than having no clue who her clone template or 'Mother' was, Yutu wanted to wash his hands of the whole affair, as he didn't want to risk raising her father's wrath, after he had so recently come under the Fleet Admiral's good graces once again. Yutu had offered what he could and tried to evade looking any deeper out of fear but she pushed him to continue.

Her whole life seemed to be a giant lie, told and retold a thousand times by her father until everyone took it as truth. A truth she would likely have to cover up or risk public scandal for herself and her father. Since the end of the Clone Wars the clones from Kamino has been slowly replaced and pushed out of the higher ranks Imperial Service, viewed by COMPNOR as not good for being anything more than stormtroopers. True, there had been the odd exceptions, like Admiral Bacara and his clone corps here on Mars and Earth, but they were an unlikely few. Her status as a female had already hurt her chances in the Imperial Navy. If it were known she was a clone as well she could kiss her dream of a high-ranking naval career good-bye forever.

She still hadn't come to terms with her father's coronation in a few days or how she was going to broach the subject of her cloning with him. Her father's long absences in command of the _Quill_ had fostered a strong sense of independence within her. Her decision for now was to find out as much as she could beforehand and then approach him when she felt the time was right.

When the _Quill's_ shuttle had dropped her off this morning at the Tarkin Tower landing pads she had immediately started making inquiries of her own. Strangely, calls to Arkanian Microtechnologies, the top agricultural and livestock cloners in Culter City, had gone unanswered so far.

She had reviewed her Father's career on the Martian HoloNet for any signs of who her mother might be but she bore little to no resemblance to any female that was mentioned in it. It seems her Father had been a bachelor since well before the Clone Wars and his service in the Old Republic's Navy.

"So what do you think?" Shimi asked. Then had to repeat herself when Phasma looked at her blankly because she hadn't been paying attention to the Bothan's constant chatter.

"Oh, it is simply wizard. It should do splendidly." Phasma answered trying to put false exuberance in her reply.

"May I have your opinion on your Father's coronation outfit? I've got several ideas I've been playing with." Shimi showed Phasma several different designs she was working on for her father's coronation outfit. The junior seamstresses helped Phasma out of her dress as she looked over the designs.

Several of the designs looked like Moff robes of office. Another had a horrendously tall hat that looked like it would rival any of Moff Kuat's Kuati headdresses. A few of them had the feel of Denonian regal wear, which was more to her Father's tastes. It wasn't long ago that she believed herself to be of Denonian stock as well; now she was far from certain.

In the end the Imperial style won out and she voiced her choice of a Grand Admiral's white dress uniform. The Bothan confirmed that was what the Fleet Admiral had already chosen to don during his coronation as the 1st Emperor of Mars. It was difficult for Phasma not to wonder if the populace of Mars would accept a clone as the heir to that throne.

Shimi promised she would have the last alterations on her gown ready in time and Phasma made her farewells. She stopped mid-stride towards the entrance doorway when she noticed that several of the junior seamstresses were bowing at her passing. It was something she had never seen before, and had certainly not been prepared for.

"Um, thank you very much." She stuttered as she hastily continued to the exit.

Two blue-hued stormtroopers in the old plastoid armor stood just inside the boutique with their blasters at the ready. She nodded to one of them that she was ready to depart. Though she heard nothing she was sure he had already informed the squad of DiploServ troopers outside.

She stepped into the bright Martian sun on a nice, cool day on what would have been a peaceful morning. The scene outside the boutique was anything but. Her squad of blue stormtroopers muscled dozens of reporters and paparazzi aside as she made her way to her Limousine 8800. Her security team did its best to hustle her to the waiting landspeeder. Dozens of questions and inquiries were flung at her as photographers and HoloCam Droids battled with each other to take her HoloImage.

Several of the red Culter City Guard rode escort on law-enforcement BARC speeders as her vehicle lifted off into the busy skyways of the city. Her journey that morning was taking her to Tarkin Tower, Military Headquarters of the new Martian Empire, along the Yos River. Her vantage gave her a view of street-sweeper droids cleaning the monumental Tarkin Square where the new Palace of Mars was being built in a similar architectural style to the Theed Royal Palace on Naboo. She had heard her father had been adamant about its design, claiming his daughter could only feel at home there. She had no idea why; she could name a dozen larger and more famous palaces in the old Empire that she would have rather inhabited.

Her personal assistant, a Rodian who had been with her before her ill-fated journey to Earth, rambled through her itinerary for the day. She noted with wonder at her growing collection of assistants after her return. Across the seat from the two of them sat three silent stormtroopers, one of them a sergeant by his rank cubes. For a second a pang of sadness and loss coursed through her as she recalled the sacrifice of FG-5638, the stormtrooper who had been tortured and murdered in front of her.

It took a few minutes to shake off the grief she felt over the brave stormtrooper's sacrifice. She tried to focus on the passing scenery and busy morning airways to distract her thoughts.

Tarkin Tower's spires soared one hundred and ninety floors into the skyline above Culter City and her repulsercraft landed on one of the edifice's VIP landing pads near the eightieth floor. Three more towers were under construction nearby to complete the complex. Phasma exited the vehicle and took a moment to stare out at the city that had become her home. She hadn't realized how bad she had missed it during her week of captivity.

Most of buildings of the metropolis that spilled out across the Ares Vallis region of Mars had been built of red pourstone and matched the surrounding landscape. In contrast the deep blue of the Yos River bisected the city as it ran its course from the Culter Sea in the Margaritifer Terra Highlands in the southeast, to Seco Lake in the northwest. She breathed deeply of the air of home, which was much less smoky than that of Earth. But then again, she reminded herself, Earth was burning right now, and with it, she hoped, most of the treacherous earthlings as well. She took one last breath and then turned and entered the building.

Twiliki receptionists saluted as she entered and several stormtrooper guards snapped to attention as she passed. Oddly, the building's guard force was led by a captain who clearly out-ranked her yet didn't hesitate in showing her proper military honors. I'm not a 'Princess' yet, she reminded herself.

A Felucian Guide led her through the maze-like halls and offices of the many departments of _Tarkin's Fist,_ a pair of her guards trailing behind. Upon her arrival at the inauspicious offices of Fleet Intelligence she was greeted by a pair of well-armed females, one Falleen and the other a Pantoran, both dressed in the crimson Imperial uniforms that marked their branch of service. Both females eyed her with the suspicion of Intelligence agents but were immediately amicable when she approached. They had been expecting her and told her that her guards could remain in the waiting room while she was taken to the briefing room.

Once inside she was whisked past banks of signal interception equipment and dozens of data-analysis technicians. A few protocol droids stood around the room interpreting Earth languages for the intelligence agents. She was guided by the Falleen into a conference room where she was offered a plush chair and some refreshments. Phasma answered that water was fine and the Falleen excused herself to fulfill the request.

A few seconds later two officers entered the room and took seats across from her. She recognized both of them from her rescue on Alcatraz Island the day before; Lieutenant Commander Knebler and First Lieutenant Murp, this time without their armor.

"How are you, Your Highness? Um, sorry, excuse me. I guess not for a couple of more days." Knebler greeted her awkwardly.

"That's fine, Sir. I'm still not used to all the attention yet. Lieutenant works just fine." Both of the officers looked at each other and just shrugged. Probably deciding that it didn't matter one way or another, Phasma figured.

"Alright, Lieutenant. We were discussing your captivity last night aboard the _Quill_. Can you tell us the focus of the North American Union's interrogation?" Knebler as the senior of the two officers began.

"Her name was Sarah, and she was a Dathomir Witch if I ever met one."

"Yes, you stated that she was the prisoner you 'disposed' of during your extraction." Murp stated. Phasma thought their word usage was too clean. What she had done was a murder, and she would take that with her for the remainder of her cloned life.

"Sarah was concerned mostly with our defenses. She asked everything from what our Star Destroyer armor was made of to what we used as a power source for our turbolasers. They seemed to lack fundamental knowledge of plasma weapons, though I detected they knew the concept, if not the application."

"Well they are intimately aware of it now. First reports from the planet are putting minimum estimates of orbital bombardment casualties at half a billion Terrans." Knebler informed her, "Was there anything else they seemed to be after?"

"Their line of questioning seemed to be more designed for a five year old. They wanted to know about older technologies such as cold fusion or ion engines. They were curious if there was a way to bypass our radiation detectors, I believe in an effort to resume nuclear weapon production. The Terrans didn't know how to overcome our commo and electronic jamming; it seemed to perplex them to no end. Whenever they had to ask something from someone with more authority it seemed like it took several hours just to receive a simple answer."

Murp smiled, "We believe we are truly damaging their effective command and control. Their defenses of Targets East and West have been disorganized and disgraceful, even by their own standards."

"They didn't seem to have any knowledge of our stormtroopers and several times wondered if we had hand-held versions of our heavy turbolasers." She continued.

"At the time of your rescue the first waves of the invasion were just landing. They're probably more aware of the Stormtrooper Corps and blasters by now." Knebler smiled. "Any mention of troop deployments or superweapons from any of them?"

"Some mentioning by the guards of 'American' divisions moving too slowly to a place called the 'Central Valley', but I couldn't tell you any more than that. The guard force at my prison didn't seem well-informed. Sarah did though. She was receiving information on the effectiveness of the bombardment. She said we were murderers for what we did."

"Tell that to the crew on the _Insertion_." Murp snorted, "Or that bodyguard of yours that they executed."

Phasma inhaled sharply at the painful memory. "They were very concerned with what my father was like. What campaigns he had fought in for the Empire. What were his strategies, who had trained him, and how had they fought. They seemed to be trying to get inside my father's head through me."

"Seems logical. Even the abos on Earth acknowledge that they need to know us before they can beat us." Knebler observed.

"Can they...I mean can they beat us?" Phasma asked.

"You didn't hear this from me, but as the soon-to-be heir to the throne, it's something you should know. It's basically a numbers game. In the end we'll kill a hundred for every man we lose, but it's more a question of who will crack first. The Empire has never lost and these earthlings may not even know how to lose."

It was a scary thought. What had her father gotten the beings of _Tarkin's Fist_ entangled in? "Shall we get back to the subject at hand? The earthlings seem to want to know..."

Their conversation went on for hours. Knebler and Murp disclosed some of the electronic intelligence gathering the Earthlings were aiming at Mars. Primitive by what the two of them dealt with every day. They told her of the progress at both the Target cities and how Operation _Piper_ was underway in their Pacific Ocean region. All-in-all the war was going in the Empire's favor.

During the course of the interview she had purposely avoided asking any questions of her father or of his involvement in cloning. She never disclosed what the earthlings had revealed to her. The revelation that had shattered her whole world.

Lieutenant Commander Knebler himself led her back to her limousine. In the sky above Culter City a huge transport sailed past, heading to the prisoner camps in the East. "You see, Lieutenant. Everyday your new Empire of Mars gets stronger, while Earth weakens. You shouldn't concern yourself with anything more than your father's coronation over the next few days."

Phasma nodded her head and assured the officer that she would do just that. She stared at the rapidly receding transport as it moved towards the horizon. Her eyes glared with hatred. She thought bitterly of her imprisonment on Alcatraz. She hoped the newly arriving prisoners enjoyed their stay on the surface of Mars, because one day she was going to merrily bury their bones underneath it.


	20. Mallory 2

**Melrose Avenue, West Hollywood, Target East, Earth**

Private Justin Mallory of the NAU's 19th Ranger Battalion was awe-struck that he was still counted amongst the living defenders of Los Angeles. Had anyone asked him, he would have said that he wasn't sure if he wasn't already dead and in hell. The young ranger lay flat on his stomach in the rubble of the Paramount Pictures Studio's archway entrance, carefully watching for any movement in his assigned field of fire.

Mallory was wondering how many miles he had already retreated since the aliens landed yesterday evening. At least he thought it was yesterday. Whenever he thought back to their first attack it seemed like it had happened years ago, not hours. Now with the sun beating down on him he reached into his multicam BDUs and adjusted his FFW-CS, the micro-climate cooling system circulated chilled water through a special vest he wore under his shirt. The effect was immediate; the sweat beading up on his skin started to dissipate.

In the ruins of the movie studio hundreds of soldiers from the 4th Infantry Division dug in, awaiting the attack that would surely pour out of Beverly Hills to the west in the next hour or so. The enemy had pressed them hard since sunrise, steadily pushing the defenders backwards. Several dozen of their monstrous, four-legged war machines could be seen forming up about a few miles west down the large avenue.

The studios themselves were for the most part ablaze but no one was fighting the fires since most of Los Angeles was one large conflagration. Several times this morning Mallory had defended buildings that were nothing more than smoking piles of ash. The small burns on his hands and arms proved just how hot that fighting had been.

Back in what passed for the rear, about twenty yards away, his fire-team leader Sergeant Cortez argued with an officer. Both of the men, like the hundreds digging in around him, were covered in white ash and pulverized concrete dust, giving them the appearance of ghosts. The effect was startling whenever the two sides came into close combat. The white dust made it hard to tell who was who whenever Mallory had to fight on top, inside, or underneath a collapsed building.

He tried listening to the argument just as alien artillery impacts started to pick up to the south. The aliens had cut off the 40th Infantry Division as well as the 10th Mountain Division, and were currently reducing both units along the 110 Interstate. While doing so they had given a slight respite of a couple of hours to the American soldiers defending the northern portion of LA. How long that respite would last was anyone's guess. Cortez and the unknown officer were arguing just that.

"Sergeant, we need more reinforcements if we're going to push the aliens back into the Pacific!" The officer warned with a tone that suggested he was right just because he was an officer and Cortez was an NCO.

"Colonel, excuse me but that's gawdamn retarded. We've lost thousands of men, and God knows how many civilians, just falling back. Every single unit we've got as reinforcement has had to go through that inhuman blast zone they have ringing the city. They're losing like 75 percent of their strength..." Cortez snapped.

"Fifty percent at most, Sergeant. It's not as bad as you make it fucking sound. And don't let the men hear you say that."

"Whatever, they're losing a lot of good men and then being thrown into the real meat grinder. I'm down to one goddamn member of my original squad besides myself and we've only been in fucking contact with these ETs assholes for less than half a day."

"What would you have us do different, Cortez? Believe me, I'm open to ideas. I want to kill these bastards just as bad as you do. My parents were in Seattle yesterday. Today there is no more Seattle."

Cortez's anger simmered a little, but only a little, "Sir, they've got to stop pushing soldiers into Los Angeles. They've got to keep them outside and start digging defensive entrenchments. LA is theirs," he pointed down the street at the gathering alien machines, "Our job should be making sure they don't break out and wreck the whole damn country."

The officer looked as if he was giving Cortez's words considerable thought. "What of the troops already in LA, Sergeant? What should we do?"

Cortez's voice got really low, and Mallory could barely make out his words. "Sir, we're already damned. We need to buy time for the others to get set up. We need to buy time with our lives, if need be." The officer nodded. He dismissed Cortez and crawled over to where his field telephone operator was dug into a foxhole. The unknown Colonel started barking orders to troops across the battlefield.

Cortez crawled over to Mallory, pulled out his entrenching tool and started helping the private improve their firing position. "You gotten anything to eat? Been drinking enough water?"

"Yes, Sarge." Mallory answered.

Both of them were stripped down versions of the soldiers they had been yesterday. Long gone were the extra pounds of equipment they had hauled across Los Angeles from the landing zone in Long Beach. The mines had been placed somewhere in Santa Monica, the same place where he had left his sleeping gear and a hell of a lot of spent ammo, grenades and rounds for their SMAW.

The heavy batteries for his Land Warrior III had been tossed along with his headgear subsystem. The sensors and communication gear had given him a graphic vision of his teammate SPC Washington getting crushed to death under one of the alien walking machine's massive feet.

During the night he had thrown away his WPSM. The Warfighter Physiological Status Monitor had let the medics in the rear know that his friend PFC Horton was wounded, but not a damn one of the bastards had come to rescue the injured Ranger as he had bled out in some hole in Beverly Hills screaming for his mother. Only when the sun had come up had Mallory realized his friend had died in the ruins of the world-famous Playboy Mansion. Somehow that hadn't made him feel better about it.

He had accidentally lost his TDI Vector submachine gun when he had been traversing a sewer underneath Santa Monica Boulevard and one of the enemy war machines had collapsed the tunnel from above. He and Cortez had scrambled for their lives through the waste around them, leaving at least twenty other soldiers crushed behind them in the darkness.

Defense had turned to retreat, which had quickly turned to rout as soldiers, sailors, and marines had poured east away from the attackers along the beachfronts of LA. Every block became a battlefield and every house became a stronghold. The aliens seemed to have no trouble smashing one right after another.

Along the broad streets of Los Angeles, Leopard III and Abrams tanks had tried to engage the 'camel-looking' walkers as well as the floating tanks the aliens pushed forward ahead of their infantry soldiers. The armor the aliens had on their vehicles seemed to be impenetrable as SMAWs, artillery, mortars, and tank rounds seemed to harmlessly bounce off their hulls. Their 'heads' swung from side to side as their chin cannons roared. Laser bolts sliced through the defending tanks as if they were sticks of butter. The enemy fire was so hot it ignited the tank's ammo and fuel, causing horrifying, shrapnel-filled explosions that took the lives of many of the soldiers protecting the armored vehicles.

Soon unit cohesion slipped away from the armor units as they turned and charged back into the city, crushing cars and soldiers too slow to get out of their way, in their mad dash for the perceived safety of the rear. The camel-walkers had charged ahead and their cannons had destroyed several armor columns in short order. Mallory had witnessed a line of almost a hundred burned-out hulls along Rodeo Drive, with million amero stores burning around them.

The walkers weren't his biggest concern. Sure, they scared the crap out of him, but he was pretty sure if he didn't bother them then they wouldn't bother him. He was much more likely to die at the hands of one of their armored infantrymen instead.

Their smaller 'phaser' had no problems with shooting straight through whatever shelter he had hunkered down behind. They had effectively flanked out, surrounded, and dug out every American position they had come across. They moved like veteran professional troopers, exposing themselves as little as possible as they advanced. It had only been a matter of luck that Mallory and Sergeant Cortez had lived as long as they had. They had both escaped from dozens of collapsing, burning edifices throughout the night and morning.

The alien's bodyarmor or whatever they wore was tough to crack with anything less than a howitzer. Mallory had turned his M6A3-SRT rifle on several who were crossing a street when he had been retreating from the I405 line. Several of the aliens had spun around as bullets hit them, knocking them down like bowling pins. Mallory had seen several sparks light off their armor as his flachette rounds impacted. The struck aliens had hit the ground and, without missing a beat, had returned suppression fire on his position. Only by quickly fleeing and rolling down a small hill had he missed being sliced up by the enemy laser fire.

He had seen hundreds of examples that his own body armor was a poor defense against the laser or 'phaser' bullets the enemy aliens threw around. The ferrofluid-filled vest and leg pads were designed to harden in micro-seconds when impacted by anything that caused a current. But the aliens' phasers shot out lasers at light speed, so that just as your vest was hardening your organs were being fried out your back. Not to mention the alien's weapons were hot enough to burn through the Kevlar padding he had on his knees, boots, helmet, elbows, hands, and legs. He would have thrown the thirty pound vest away long ago if it hadn't already saved his life several times over from flying shrapnel and falling construction material.

He turned his gaze skyward as he dug. Several formations of the alien mysterious 'H' fighters circled lazily above the Upper Californian metropolis. He had learned from experience yesterday that the squatter appearing 'H' fighters usually massed over the front-lines whenever the aliens were about to start another attack. Several times the defenders on the ground would fire shoulder-mounted sidewinder missiles towards the fighters above. The result was usually the same. The 'H' fighters would bug out for higher altitude or orbit, just to return when the projectile was empty of fuel or one of their wingmen lased it from the sky. He'd yet to see one of the blue fighters shot down.

His ears hardly picked up the dull, thumping sound of his own side's artillery anymore. Rumors were the aliens had hunted down most of the American howitzers and self-propelled guns with highly effective counter-battery fire. Other soldiers told stories of high-command ordering all artillery pieces back out of the city. Either way, Mallory knew the soldiers around him only had their smaller mortars to rely on for indirect fire support. A scary thought, considering how much the NAU had truly been humbled by these invaders from the stars. "Where the hell is the Air Force, Sarge?"

"Bunch of chicken-shits is what they are. They ran like cowards as soon as the aliens arrived," Justin wasn't sure if that was true or not. He remembered witnessing the huge air battle off the coast yesterday, when it had seemed like the sky was raining shot-down North American fighters. "If only our fucking commo worked I'd know more. I heard a rumor they're trying to regroup somewhere out in the desert but I've heard a lot of things that weren't true in the past day." Mallory just shrugged his shoulders and took whatever the veteran sergeant said as gospel truth.

The Ranger noticed the high-pitched whine of dozens of the alien aircraft starting to form over northern Los Angeles County. He raised his binoculars and spotted several formations of the squatter fatter 'H' fighters amongst them. He moved his sights to the enemy walkers and noticed many of them were getting underway again as well. A mile down Melrose he identified a formation of the invader's floating tanks and two-legged shorter mech-walkers leading the advance.

His eyes squinted when he sighted figures moving through the ruins around the alien walkers. The infantry soldiers in their white, gray, and black camouflaged armor moved with professional precision in support of the advance. They appeared like white and gray beetles skittering through the rubble. Already sounds of the defenders closer to the alien lines reached his ears. With each passing moment those sounds got louder as the battle approached.

A sudden bark from his right and Mallory turned to a nearby sniper position. The two man team was manning a deadly Barrett M500 rifle that still scanned for targets down range, ready to deal out more death with its EXACTO .50 cal rounds. Mallory whipped his head back towards the enemy advance half a mile away and was rewarded with the sight of two ET soldiers dragging another extraterrestrial back behind some cover. The wounded alien seemed to be missing most of its left leg below the knee. Hopefully the alien would bleed out before the ET medics could go to work on him.

"Take that, Shithead!" Mallory turned in his foxhole to give the sniper team a thumbs up in praise of their well placed shot. His heart jumped as return sniper fire from the ET lines caught the Spotter in the face, burning an instantly cauterized hole through his head. The sniper tried to scramble away from their position but it was too late. Red laser fire caught the sharpshooter in the ribs as he moved. The sniper's body hit the ground without a word as the intensive heat burned through the air in his lungs and roasted his heart. The big sniper rifle clattered across the rubble.

An instant later several 'H' fighter-bombers swept over the front line. Glowing blue-hued orbs dropped from their bomb bays to explode squarely on the infantry positions around Mallory. A bomb hit the far side of a Stryker IV infantry vehicle nearby, its shredded hull absorbing the blast and saving his life. Blood dripped from his nose and ears from the concussive force of the blast. He wondered if anyone would ever find the remains of the vehicle's crew. Sergeant Cortez smacked him on the top of his helmet and asked if he was OK. Cortez's voice sounded as if it was a thousand miles away. Mallory just held up the middle finger of his right hand, which made the NCO laugh then shout. "Alright, get tactical Mal, the fuckers are going to hit us any minute."

Mallory pressed himself down into his hole as flat as he could get. A pair of medics carrying a burned soldier jumped over the two Rangers on their way to the rear. Mallory thought they were incredibly brave or stupid to be running out in the open right now. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than the camel-walkers opened up with their guns from a klick away.

Just as he felt his hearing returning several American positions unleashed SMAW, TOWs, MILAN IIIs, Javelins, and Hellfire missiles at the advancing walkers to no other effect than letting the attackers know where they were. The chin-cannon phasers of the beasts tore huge holes in the American lines. Mallory noticed several of the defending soldiers getting up and running to the rear. For the most part the line was holding but the alien infantry was still creeping forward. Mallory peeked over his shoulder and picked out his best line of retreat to the next defensive line two blocks further east.

Eventually the shaking of the ground wasn't just from the impacting rounds of the enemy anymore. Mallory could feel the pounding in the earth of each step the closest war machine took grew nearer and nearer. He felt the vibrations in his teeth and bones as the massive vehicle closed within a few blocks of his position.

Smoke from the burning city obscured it from his view for just a moment. Then suddenly two flashes of red lights plunged into his position from out of the smoky fog. The bolts slammed into the defensive berm to the right of him, picking him up and hurling him over the wreckage of the destroyed Stryker. Mallory bounced hard off of the concrete, tasting salty blood in his mouth.

The next thing he knew Cortez was grabbing him by his armor and pulling him upright. The NCO pushed Mallory's dropped rifle back into his hands, and dragged Mallory behind him. "Move! We've got to fall back!"

"What's happened, Sarge?" Mallory shouted above the din of the battle.

"They've flanked us two or three blocks to the north. We've got to fucking move or get fucking cut off!" Cortez pointed across the ruins. Mallory was awe-struck to see those floating tanks already across the trenches to his north. Small figures dressed in white armor were dropping into the American trenches and foxholes and pouring fire into the soldiers fleeing in front of them. The private grew angry when a pair of the two-legged walkers raced ahead of the enemy lines and into the retreating American troops there. Their chin guns firing into the backs of the retreating defenders.

A nearby M939 heavy truck slowed to make a turn east. Cortez pushed Mallory towards it, and they both clung to its side as it raced to the next set of lines. The new trenches were already being chewed up by alien artillery when they arrived.

Cortez and Mallory jumped off the side of the moving truck and flung themselves into a deep crater for protection. Inside the crater were three two-man hunter-killer teams still armed with two SMAWs and a MILAN III. Mallory quickly saw that Cortez was the highest ranking enlisted man in the hole. They had about five minutes before the enemy launched an attack on their new position. Already snipers and mortar teams were engaging the approaching aliens and the young Ranger prayed they were having some effect.

"You boys catching anything today?" Cortez asked as if he was fishing from a local dock. The soldiers in the pit smiled.

"Not really, Sarge. Been kinda hoping to sneak up on one of those two-legged bastards." One of the soldiers answered, a specialist by his rank badge.

"Well you're not going to have any luck down here. You want to come with us over to that collapsed apartment building? We might have a better shot from higher up." Cortez pointed at a nearby building that had its entire front smashed in, but still had a few floors standing in the open air. The soldiers nodded and followed Cortez over the lip of the crater. Mallory pulled rear security as the group made its way hunched over through a slit trench to the new position.

Over his shoulder he could see the aliens were already approaching the defensive line. By the time they reached the apartment every American soldier was opening up with everything they had on the advancing aliens as the invaders returned devastating laser fire into the American entrenchments. Mallory spotted several of the bi-pedal mech-walkers moving ahead of the advance as the alien infantry dug out survivors on the flanks of their attack.

They moved quickly up a ruined staircase to the second floor. Once there they were surprised to be greeted by the sight of several civilians. The civies had the appearance of an Hispanic street gang, all of them wearing blue and heavily armed. The gang members saw the soldiers and nodded. Mallory could see they all had good positions to cover the street below. Cortez said something in Spanish to the man who appeared to be the gang leader then turned to Mallory.

"Mal, stay on this floor and provide security. I'm going to set the anti-tank weapons up on the third floor. Hector here," he pointed at the gang leader, "Is going to help. This is their neighborhood. Whatever you do, don't let anybody up those stairs."

"Yes, Sergeant."

Mallory stayed along with two more soldiers. They all took up positions to cover the street outside. When Mallory was situated he looked out there. Already soldiers were starting to fall back towards the next line of defense as huge holes were blasted in their positions by the advancing alien horde. A floating tank roared across the crater he had been in a few minutes ago and poured heavy fire on a mortar position in the parking garage across the street from him.

Three more enemy tanks floated past his position. The gang members held their fire. Suddenly the enemy infantry was following in their armor's wake. Without being told, the civilians opened up with their guns and home-made molotov cocktails. The enemy reacted quickly, going to ground and returning fire on the second story. Mallory lined up a target at a little over a hundred yards and squeezed the trigger, He watched as sparks ignited off the alien's powerful armor. The alien turned his own gun in his direction and shot off a few laser bolts, impacting and killing a gang member lying next to Mallory.

The enemy infantry brought up a heavy-crew-served machine gun that they used to rake the entire second floor. The larger laser bolts ripped into the American defenders, tearing chunks from them and setting several ablaze. Mallory screamed for God and then his mother as the shattered floor was ripped apart around him. A half minute later they ceased their murderous fire, packed up their weapon and moved on after the rest of the advancing infantry.

Mallory laid quietly in the smoke filled rubble. A deathly quiet permeated the second floor. He moved his head back and forth and saw that every gang member and soldier defending the position had been gunned down and killed. Mallory couldn't believe he was the only survivor.

Suddenly there was another noise. Mallory laid flat on his back and perked up his ears to listen more closely. Someone was moving downstairs. As he struggled to listen over the sounds of the battle raging outside he heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep on the cracked wooden boards of the steps. One footfall after another someone slowly made their way up the shattered staircase. Mallory's hand tightened automatically around his rifle's trigger as he steadied his breathing.

He watched the stairwell out of the corner of his eye, careful not to make any movement that would draw the attention of whoever was down there. A white and black helmet emerged from the steps, followed by an alien in the full-bodied armor system he had seen countless others wearing as they had murdered his countrymen. This one appeared to be alone, crouched down, with his gun held out at the ready in front of it.

The enemy soldier bent down over the nearest dead gang member closest to the stairs and began rifling through his pockets. Mallory watched as it stooped down and pulled a gold chain from the dead man's neck before stuffing it into a pouch on its belt. Mallory gripped his rifle tighter as the alien moved to the next body and began to search it as well. The young Ranger felt every muscle start to tense up as the alien got closer and closer.

Outside the steady thrum of an alien machine stopped right alongside of the apartment building. The alien momentarily turned to look at the huge two-legged walker out of a hole in a collapsed wall. Mallory used the distraction to his advantage and sprung to his feet while he whipped his rifle around at the enemy. The trigger only clicked as his rifle failed to fire. His heart stopped. He had forgotten to reload another clip in the stress of the battle.

The alien soldier turned back towards him and, recognizing the threat Mallory presented, started to raise its own gun. Mallory acted on instinct, striking out with his leg and knocking the weapon from the soldier's hand. He hit the alien mid-section and tackled him to the ground. He punched the alien's chest plate and the intense pain that shot through his fist allowed the alien enough time to react and toss Mallory off of it.

Mallory was still on his knees when he withdrew his bayonet from its sheath on his waist and attacked again. The alien removed a knife of its own and charged back at him. Both combatants were still on their knees as they grappled, each with his free hand gripping the knife hand of the other. Mallory felt the inhumanly strong grip of the alien and swallowed a scream as a popping noise and searing pain came from his wrist.

Unexpectedly, the remains of the room around them exploded as three rockets slammed into the knee joint of the bipedal walker outside. Cortez and his team were still alive upstairs and had waited for the perfect moment to spring their ambush. The alien walker's leg was snapped at the knee and it quickly crashed to the ground outside.

Mallory lay in the smoke and dust cloud that obscured the room. Both he and the alien had been flung several feet by the blast. The alien seemed not to notice him in the peripheral sights of its helmet. Mallory lunged at the alien's fallen blade. The weapon vibrated strangely in his hand. The alien growled as it spun towards him and Mallory stabbed out, hitting the enemy in the black suit it wore under its armor. The blade pierced the ET's armpit, plunging deep into its chest cavity, its spurting crimson blood soaking his arm. The alien gave a shudder and collapsed dead onto the floor.

Mallory was breathing heavy from the exertion of the fight. The alien's helmet had been knocked off when it hit the floor and Mallory could only stare in surprise at what lay before him. It was, as far as he could tell, a human.

"Mal!" Cortez yelled from the stairwell. "Mal, you alive?"

"Yeah, yes Sarge!" Mallory stammered. "Down here!"

"Move your ass, Ranger! We gotta move. Whole hell of a lot of ET assholes moving up this way." Mallory's ears picked up the sound of several people moving around downstairs this time. The noises sounded menacing and they certainly appeared to be getting closer. He didn't want to be sitting next to a dead alien when the rest of the Martians came up here.

He quickly looked around and found his rifle next to the alien's gun. He picked up both, snapping the smaller alien one into his old TDI Vector's holster on his leg. He didn't realize it, but in his haste he slid the alien's knife into his bayonet's sheath instead of his own blade. He moved up the stairwell, slapping a new clip into his rifle seconds before more aliens came up the stairs from the ground level.

Cortez was at a far window lowering the last member of the hunter-killer teams downwards out of the back of the building towards a crushed dumpster at street level. Once the soldiers hit the ground they started working their way eastward. Mallory and his sergeant made it down and out of the apartment building and quickly followed the others back to their own lines.

Later, when they had reached their new positions and had a moment to rest before the next inevitable retreat, Mallory showed Cortez the alien rifle. Cortez smiled and mockingly pointed the exotic weapon at the approaching enemy lines a few blocks away. "Happiness is a warm gun."

"I have a feeling it might be LA's only piece of happiness for a while, Sarge." The NCO nodded in agreement.


	21. Brakatak 2

**Landing Pads, Concentration Camp 1138, Xanthe Terra Highlands, Mars**

Brakatak was getting used to the claustrophobic feel of an enviro-suit again. The yellow utility suit covered his entire body in protective flexible plastoid, while a polarized faceplate protected his eyes and face from the harsh Martian sun. The big Gran paced back and forth across the top of a giant, fluid-filled pipeline that ran alongside the upper edge of a giant spaceship landing pad. The landing pad itself was a twenty story structure in the center of the sprawling prison facility. It was made of plastcrete with many ramps and a skeletal framework of durasteel beams.

Resting on the guard rail next to him leaned his friend Frip. The Ishi Tib wore a yellow outfit much like Brakatk's, as did the line of male Grans that stretched out along the railing with the both of them. Brakatak shook his head at his strange turn of fortune.

His old bull Frek Frek stood with his arms crossed, his helmet off, and all three eyes glued to the large Imperial cargo ship that was slowly descending towards them. The gray and white bulk container vessel approached the camp without a single escort. Brakatak knew it came from a recently-captured, enemy moon and that it was supposedly filled to the brim with near-humans named earthlings or terrans. Nobody really knew what to call them.

Brakatak knew very little about the supposed near-humans that were the enemy of his Empire other than the fact than the prison had to ship in a special diet for the arriving captives. He also knew that they had crippled a star destroyer last year. He had found it humorous when it happened but had quickly hidden his amusement when the general populace on the streets of Culter City had been outraged at the attack.

His own smaller herd hadn't thought much of the attack and had spent their time working and fixing up their ship the _Agen's Light._ Brakatak still held out hope for a proper pirating crew once he got out of prison. His herd was constantly in his thoughts; he hadn't seen them for almost a month, ever since he and Frip had been abducted.

His reunion with Frek Frek and his old herd of Grans had been overshadowed by their current predicament. His old bull had wanted to know if he had any word of Tupolek and the females of the herd. Brakatak had been afraid to tell them that they hadn't. When he had told him his new herd was surely searching for them and that one of them was a real Jedi Knight, the other male Gran of Frek Frek's herd had taken on an air of hushed awe. Frek Frek had only stated that it remained to be seen if his Jedi friend could get them out of the prison camp.

Their place in the hierarchy of camp life placed them in as good a position as they were going to get. Each of the male Gran had been falsely accused of working for the Black Sun criminal organization. The Khommites of Arkanian Microtechnologies had tattooed every member of the herd, as well as Brakatak and Frip, with the markings of the Black Sun. The crime syndicate had been mostly wiped out two years ago on the _Abandoned Hope;_ any survivors had gone to ground in Culter City so they weren't about to surface now and testify to the Gran's innocence. The Camp Commandant and the guard force had largely ignored Frek Frek's claims. The Commandant had enough sense to fear the Black Sun and its far-flung and often fatal reach. Thinking he could at least work with them he had placed each of the Gran in an overseer position, hoping their familiarity with Mars and the culture they had brought with them from the Home Galaxy would set them above the primitive prisoners from Earth. When the earthlings arrived each of the Gran and a few other _Tarkin's Fist_ criminals would be in charge of a barrack in the camp housing a hundred captive workers.

The Commandant himself flitted about the landing pad in an open-topped airspeeder with a pair of high ranking guards. He had given the Martian overseers instructions. Mining, agricultural work, large scale terraforming operations; it didn't matter how many of the earthlings perished just so long as the work got done. If it didn't the Gran would be the ones picking up the slack. One odd requirement the Gran were expected to follow was that they were to keep an eyestalk out for any pregnant female earthlings amongst their workforce. Those were to be pulled out for special treatment at a hospital camp closer to Culter City. Brakatak wondered how he was supposed to tell if one of the Earthers was pregnant in the first place. If he was lucky he'd get mainly males in his first group of laborers and wouldn't have to worry about the strange request.

The large container vessel glided over the landing pad, its landing jets and thrusters firing out clouds of steam as the captain of the spacecraft brought it in for a gentle landing. Bright orange docking clamps extended outwards from the pad, clanging loudly as they made contact with the transport's hull. Fuel lines and several gangplanks were extended to the craft while an overhead speaker warned over and over that no beings were allowed to approach the prisoners until decontamination was complete. Brakatak was in no hurry to contract whatever space malady these new humans brought with them so he had no problem going along with the Imperial game plan.

RC-AD Riot Control droids rolled forward to take up position at the bottom of the gangplanks. The tough-looking droids were armed with a wide variety of weapons designed to keep the captives in line. Brakatak and Frip took up their positions at one of the release valves of the pipes that ran over the DeCon Vats below them. Frek Frek and the other Gran took up similiar positions over the dozen vats built into the superstructure of the landing pad. Brakatak watched as the guards along the complex came to the ready, stretching out and arming their blasters and force pikes for the rough work ahead.

The first earthlings to exit the ship stood blinking and rubbing their eyes in the Martian sun as they stopped at the top of the ramp. They were a sorry lot, scared, horrified, many of them bandaged or wearing ill-fitting red utility suits and boots. The first ones noticed the small force of droids, guards, and overseers waiting to process their arrival, and hesitantly tried to back up and reenter the ship. But the push of the prisoners behind them and mechanical unloading devices aboard the _Chain _forced the captives forward and down the ramp.

The RC-AD droids went to work. The droids roughly manhandled the earthlings into single file lines, counting them off into groups of one hundred prisoners each. After each group was formed it was forced to march towards the DeCon vats where the quiet, yellow-suited herd of Gran awaited them.

The first group of approaching earthlings looked like a pack of skittish nerf. They ranged in ages from the elderly to several dozen who were obviously still younglings. The group consisted of both genders as the droids had made no effort to separate the sexes before the groupings. Armored guards approached the group and shocked several of its slower members into picking up the pace. The prisoners walked into the large vat and stared at the Gran above them.

Frek Frek addressed the near-humans below with a loud-hailer as the rear doors to the vat closed, trapping the new arrivals within. Several gasps and cries of alarms passed through the crowd. Brakatak tensed; the last thing anybody wanted was panic on the loading docks. "Beings of Earth. You are being legally processed by the Galactic Empire as slave labor contraband. You have no cause for alarm, as you will be fed and taken care of. This is a simple DeCon station. Think of this as a type of shower."

Brakatak had no idea what happened, but at the mention of a shower the Earthlings went as crazy as Jawas at a junk yard sale. They piled against the doors at each end, yelling and screaming to be released. Brakatak watched as they beat their knees and fists bloody trying to knock down the doors. Frip nudged him in the side and pointed back at the unloading groups of earthlings headed towards the vats. Several fights were breaking out with the droids and guards. At the moment the guard force had the upper hand but who knew how long that would last.

The Commandant swept overhead in his personal airspeeder. "Do it!" he bellowed down at Frek Frek. The Gran bull sprang into action, releasing the first valves. A second later a purple mist sprayed over the crowd below. The gas was a blend of a Yavin System defoliant, designed to kill any plant or fungal growth the earthlings carried, and a fumigant agent from Ryloth to eliminate any insect life that had hitched a ride with the prisoners.

The near-humans hacked and coughed, but after a minute they realized that the Gran weren't exterminating them as well. The purple mist thinned and evaporated, just as Brakatak heard more screams arise from the DeCon vat next to his as another team of Gran got to work on another group of prisoners. The Commandant had ordered several platoons of guards to reinforce the riot control droids on the landing pad and order was slowly being restored there.

Frek Frek gave Brakatak and Frip the signal to release their assigned valve. A red-mist spewed from the faucet sprinklers above the crowd. It didn't take the earthlings very long to realize what was happening to them. Brakatak watched in horror as the first group of prisoners grasped the hair as it fell from their heads. Males with beard and mustaches were aghast as they suddenly found themselves clean-shaven. The female earthlings seemed to take it much worse than their male counterparts. Their shrieks filled the air as their locks fell around their feet.

Frek Frek once again signaled for the valve to be closed. Frip screwed the cap closed tightly. The smell of lime, soda ash, and sweat rose from the pit below. The earthlings quieted as they waited for the next horror that surely awaited them. Instead the far doors to the DeCon swung wide open. This time guards waved the prisoners forward with their force pikes and shock batons, but without the protection of Evotrooper armor and enviro-suits. The prisoners meekly advanced out into the camp, before being marched off to their assigned barracks. Brakatak pondered which group he would be in charge of, as he remained at his station processing group after group of captives throughout the day.

He found himself later in the day passing through the shoddy, red pourstone barracks that were slowly being filled with newly-arriving prisoners. He had found out last night, after he had awoken in the camp, that the overseers were billeted in a different barrack near the edge of camp. Escorting him were five camp guards in riot gear as well as one of the camp's junior administrators. Behind them Frip marched ahead of a similar grouping.

Brakatak led his escorts up to a barrack with the letters Herf Shen over the door in aurebesh. Several earthlings poked their heads out of the doorway studying Brakatak's group. Frip continued onto the next barrack in the long line of camp buildings. One of his escorts called for the earthlings inside to come out and assemble in front of their barrack. It took them a few minutes, but they eventually gathered in a small mob in front of the big Gran.

Brakatak reached up and released the fastening snaps on the hood of his enviro-suit and pushed it back, letting it hang from the back of his neck. An audible gasp passed through the crowd along with a single female shriek. One older female passed out and several captives caught her and tried to steady her. Brakatak caught the word 'alien' passing through the prisoners. Great, he thought, he was in charge of a bunch of near-humans ingrained with High Human Culture racism. It would be just like he was back in the Galactic Empire again.

One young male raised his hand and waited for Brakatak to notice him. Brakatak pointed to him. "Are you a chupacabra?" the young near-human asked. Several earthlings let out a small laugh at the young male's question. Brakatak wasn't sure if he was being poked fun of or not.

"I have no idea what that is. If you're referring to my species then you should know that I am a Gran from the planet Kinyen." He could see his words meant nothing to the primitive earthlings. Evidently they didn't get out much.

The administrator gave him a datapad containing a small list of instructions for him to deliver to the crowd of bald near-humans. Usually one who had no trouble with speaking, he had trouble finding the words to begin. So much of what he was reading reminded him of what the Empire had done to Kinyen.

"You are to be organized into labor gangs by orders of the Empire of Mars," He hadn't even been aware that Mars had declared itself an Empire till he read those words aloud, unfortunately he didn't have time to stop and consider what that meant for the free beings of Mars, "for the sole purpose of providing raw material and resources to that Empire. The work you will do is more important than your own lives," he choked that part out. "Do your work well and you will be treated well. You shall receive rations based on your work performance and how ever many of you remain living by the end of each work day. The labor you will be performing will be in the fields of mining, construction, and agriculture. My name is Brakatak, I am a prisoner like you, but I serve the Empire in an overseer position."

"Basically, you're our boss?" an older male asked from the crowd. One of the guards raised his force pike in the male's direction, ready to strike a prisoner who was uppity enough to directly address an overseer. Brakatak responded before something bad happened to the male.

"Yes, you could say that. But as my own personal crew, I will do what I can to help you survive here. I do not wish any of you harm. I cannot say the same for these beings." he waved his thumbs at the guards, several of whom broke out in menacing grins, as if they were proud of intimidating the helpless captives. "Please, raise your hand if you have any other questions, or if you'd like to address me directly."

Several hands shot up at once. He patiently answered them one at a time, trying to soothe the fears of his group of earthlings as if they were a herd of Gran. "Yes, you truly are on Mars."

"No, you are not prisoners of war, but are considered captured plunder or loot. As such you have no legal rights on the planet or Empire of Mars."

"Feeding is twice a day: once in the morning and again when you return to your barracks after dark."

"Your old clothes were incinerated on the base on your moon. You are required to wear your utility suits at all times, which I recommend because it still gets pretty chilly at night around here."

"The sleeping mats in your barracks are all that you will be provided."

"Escape is punishable by death," This answer made him become gravely serious. "Anyone not accounted for at morning and evening roll-calls will result in five executions from your barrack. Any successful escape will result in twenty executions as well as the detonation of your inhibitor chip." Several earth hands shot up at his answer, but he answered before they could ask. "It's a chip that was surgically inserted into your body during in-processing on your moon. If activated, it will explode with enough force to tear you into several pieces. If you travel more than one kilometer from this camp without your chip being cleared for a labor gang it will be activated and you will be killed. Understood?"

A bunch of the prisoners ran their hands along a small scar on the back of their necks to check if what he was saying was the truth. A few of them quietly wept and were comforted by their fellow prisoners. It was hard for Brakatak to pretend to not have pity for these poor creatures. Two years ago at the _Death Star_ construction site on Desparye he had been in the same spot as them.

A pair of droids brought up large vats of Weequay cream of womprat soup for the prisoner's dinner. Brakatak stopped answering questions as the guards ordered the captives to line up to receive their evening ration. The prisoners were evidently famished as they bumped and jostled each other for their place in the line. The young male who had asked if Brakatak was that strange earth word, stood at the rear of the line studying the large Gran. The male looked as if he had a hundred questions trying to escape but was too fearful of the guards to ask. Brakatak still felt uneasy in his overseer position and chose to ignore the near-human for now.

Brakatak rose in the overseer's barracks well before first light and took his escort back out to Barrack Herf Shen for roll call. Ninety-eight prisoners out of a hundred reported. Two of them had committed suicide in the night but the other prisoners brought out their corpses to be counted just so that the rest of them wouldn't be punished. The administrator crossed the dead prisoners off of the roster on his datapad. Brakatak assigned a small detail of captives to take the bodies to the camp's incinerator before leading the crew out of the camp to a long line of repulserlift trucks, where they loaded up.

It was an hour of travel before they reached their destination. Brakatak sat in the back of one of the gravtrucks transporting the prisoners. The few times he tried to start a conversation he was met with tears or stony silence, so after awhile he gave up and waited quietly for the trip to end. He tensed whenever he noticed the ninety-eight pairs of eyes that were sizing him up.

They arrived at an enormous, sprawling strip mine several hundred kilometers from Culter City. A hovertrain, the _Kuat Limited_, sat on a siding along the reddish pit, with several hundred empty ore-hauling cars trailed behind its engine. Brakatak led his assigned group of prisoners to a tool distribution hub on the lip of the pit. Most of the prisoners were given pails and baskets for hauling the rich iron-oxide out of the pit and onto the train. The remainder were given low-tech shovels, picks, and sledgehammers.

As the prisoners were force marched into the mine a guard handed Brakatak some glareshades made for his three eyestalks. He put them on. When he did he noted the camp guard force as well as the other overseers had donned polarized glareshades as well, a smart move with the local sun Sol burning so brightly in the thin Martian atmosphere. He noted with some discomfort that the earthling slaves weren't offered the same protection.

Brakatak entered the pit and took up a supervisory position over his charges. He assigned two of the smaller younglings in his group as a water detail and pointed out the water repulser-tanker that was towed behind one of the gravtrucks. The kids quickly ran off to perform their duty. The rest of the captives got to work pulling the ore from the Martian soil. Soon most of them had formed a giant winding line that led back to the hovertrain, where their baskets were unloaded.

It was back-breaking, unending work. Even in the cooler Martian climate several earthlings collapsed under the strain. RC-AD droids fell on the fallen captives with a sadistic passion Brakatak had never witnessed in a droid. Frek Frek had made it clear that the Gran around the mining site wouldn't be responsible for punitive actions on the captives. Brakatak was glad, as he couldn't see himself ever beating one of the poor wretched things.

The work went on and on, with the_ Kuat Limited_ inching forward through the day as one car after another was slowly filled to capacity with the reddish dust destined for the ferroconcrete foundries and terraforming machinery of Mars. Brakatak gave his crew ten minute breaks every hour to prevent them from keeling over from exhaustion. His buddy Frip noticed him doing so and did the same with his own charges. The practice quickly spread across the entire strip mine. Frek Frek smiled and nodded at him in gratitude when he saw him later in the day. Not a single guard ever said a word and even the droids accepted it.

It was mid-afternoon when he was enjoying some water given to him by his two water boys when Brakatak noticed something didn't feel right. He couldn't quite place the feeling. The prisoners around him just seemed to be watching him more closely than they had done in the morning. He looked around for the nearest guard but the man was fifty meters away chatting with another guard. Brakatak suddenly felt very alone. Almost as one, the prisoners right in front of him stopped working. Several of them gasped and it was obvious they were looking at something going on behind him.

Just as he started to turn he heard the thud and impact of someone being tackled behind him. The clanging of a durasteel pickaxe on the ground caught his attention as he turned. An earthling prisoner had tackled a much larger and fiercer looking male. The two of them were wrestling on the ground. Most of the surrounding captives seemed too shocked to take advantage of the situation and watched as the two pounded each other.

Brakatak reached down and tried to separate the two. The larger near-human snarled and tried to grab at one of Brakatak's eyestalks. He was too late, as several arriving guards hit both of the wrestling earthlings with their stun batons. Both captives were writhing in pain as blows rained down on them.

"Hitting Earthers stop!" Frip yelled as he arrived on scene, "Big Earther guilty one. Saw whole thing I did. Biggie snuck up on Gran buddy Brakatak," He jabbed a fishy thumb in Brakatak's direction, "Try to brain Brakatak in back of head. Dirty fighting this is. Smaller Earther jumped in, and he save Brakatak's life."

"This true?" One of the guards asked the smaller captive. Brakatak recognized him as the one who had asked the strange question from the day before.

"Yeah, it didn't seem right, hitting the chupacabra here from behind." he answered pointing at Brakatak.

The guards released him when they saw that no one else was raising an alternate story. Most of them didn't want to contradict the Ishi Tib overseer. The other captive sent out a stream of what Brakatak figured were Earth curses. The guard roughly took him away. Brakatak didn't want to think about it but he was sure his attacker would be dead by sundown. He noticed the nearby camp administrator cross off another name on his roster.

The remaining guards and droids got the workforce back to their labor. In no time Brakatak was alone with Frip and his savior. He noticed several captives flashing menacing looks at the young male. "Maybe, we should get you out of here." Brakatak suggested.

"Get alternative assignment within camp, maybe get new barrack too?" Frip suggested, picking up on the animosity aimed at the heroic captive.

"Why don't you stick with us today and we'll set something up when we get back to the camp. What's your name anyway?" the Gran asked as he started to lead the small group out of the pit and back to his first supervisory location.

"Jason Bogan, but my friends call me Jas or just Jason."

"Well just Jason, welcome to the herd." The young male gave him a quizzical look. Frip just laughed.


	22. Roblin 2

**Patrol Sector Cherek 3, 15,000 meters over West Covina, Target East, Earth**

"Not another one of these clankers." Captain Timus Roblin groaned over his squadron's comm channel.

"Bloodstripe, you talking about that new little bloodsucker coming out of the north?" His panelman, Lieutenant August, asked as they both turned their formation of ten TIE/In starfighters on an intercept course with the new contact.

"That's the one, Striker. Another one of those unmanned recon bogeys the abos keeping throwing up." This was the squadron's first contact since returning on station an hour ago. They had shot down seven of the easy prey before being relieved earlier in the morning. Now with the system's star Sol dipping below the Pacific horizon the target was proving difficult to visually spot in the fading evening light. "Zap and Wampa, this guy is all yours."

"Roger roger, Bloodstripe." Zap's voice cut across the channel, "Engaging now." The two TIEs raced ahead of the formation, their blaster bolts stretching across the darkening sky for the quick-moving bogey.

"Get him before he launches his missiles." Roblin urged, but it was too late. Four fiery projectiles launched off of hard points located under the enemy craft's wings. _Mynock_ Squadron had seen this before. The heavy air-to-ground anti-tank missiles were usually fired blindly at the Empire's front line AT-ATs in a hopeless attempt to stem the unstoppable tide of Imperial troops below.

But these missiles seemed different. It took him only a split second to realize why; these projectiles were actually following his high-speed maneuvering. "Evasive action, _Mynock_, go for orbit." He hoped to outrun the weapons once again. He flipped over to the FlightOps channel, "TIE/WAC _Besh_ requesting jamming assistance in grid Cherek 3."

"_Mynock_, there aren't any radar-guided deployment signatures in Cherek 3." A technician aboard the orbiting TIE/WAC informed him. Roblin gulped. He was on his own in an atmosphere where the weapons were just as fast as his starfighter. An indicator light on his multi-range TAG informed him that his hull was being pinged by some sort of laser weapon. Why the laser wasn't causing him any damage was strange. And then it hit him.

"Zap take that guy out! He's lighting us up with an old-fashioned laser guidance system for his missiles." He watched as the unmanned craft banked and dove for the deck below, with Zap and Wampa closing fast on its tail. The four projectiles inched closer as the rest of _Mynock_ scattered in all directions.

A sudden flash of light below signaled the explosive death of the enemy machine as Wampa scored a hit and racked up one more kill on his growing record. Roblin pitched his TIE into a series of rolls which quickly lost the now unguided weapons that had been aimed at him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he ordered the squadron to reform on him.

Dozens of other TIE fighter formations flew through the night sky above Target East. The bottoms of their hulls were lit up by the thousands of fires burning unchecked below them. Nearer to the shore lumbering _Lancer_ and _Carrack_ frigates and long lines of Clone War Era CR20 troop carriers were landing at LZ-LAX, where the off-loading of the third wave of troops was taking place. High above him Roblin could make out the Star Destroyers moving against the stars and the local moon as they continued their bombardment of Target East's edges in their efforts to cut the city of from any reinforcement.

The city below reminded him of one of the nine Hells he was taught about in school back on Corellia. Tiny formations of TIE/In starfighters and ARC-170s patrolled the night sky pouncing on anything that dared approach their newly claimed territory. It had been several hours since the last earthling airspeeder had even attempted to pierce through the outer ring of TIEs defending the landing sites. Even the threat of those dangerous Patriot IIIs the Americans below had thrown up earlier in the day had been all but erased by pouncing TIE/sa bombers on their launchers.

With the entire city ablaze it was hard to make out the front lines without flying directly over them. The clearest indicators that the _Mynocks_ were there were the bright flashes of blaster bolts and blue-hued Imperial artillery impacts. If he slowed down enough he could see the blacked out hulls of walkers as they continued to push back the metropolis's defenders.

He flew nearer to the bombardment zone. It was being pummeled by hundreds of thousands of heavy turbolasers set to 'vaporizing blow', which allowed them to turn a stretch of Target East into glass. The molten ring encircled the city and had a depth of six kilometers. As of his last patrol the earthlings were still trying to push their military units through the zone regardless of the bombardment. This was fine with the Imperial Army Generals since it left them fighting one demolished or half-strength unit after another.

He spotted one such enemy unit trying to make a run through a gap in the bombardment. He slowed his craft to a crawl to watch but something was off. "_Besh_, this is QI2-1-1. I have a movement sighting in grid," he checked his flight computer, "Cherek 7. Enemy troops in open, moving east, not west. I say again. Moving EAST!"

"QI2-1-1, say again. Can you repeat your last comm?" _Besh_'s technicians asked, as they relayed their conversation to flight commands throughout the fleet.

"_Besh_, I'm seeing troops on foot and several cargo gravtrucks and landspeeders moving out of the city. Numbers are several hundred, estimate six-zero-zero."

"Roger roger, QI2-1-1, six-zero-zero troops in the open moving out of city. Can you see if there are any other units moving towards the bombardment zone from your position?"

"Negative, _Besh_. Looks like some kind of headquarters unit now that we're getting closer to it. Seeing no movement from their front lines other than general consolidation and retreat maneuvers." Roblin reported.

"Astral!" Someone on the TIE/WAC exclaimed. "This is what we've been looking for. Looks like their high command is running like a Gungan. Nobody else has seen any new movement into the city for several hours either."

"That's wizard _Besh_. Looks like the city will be ours by tomorrow night the way those AT-ATs are driving." Striker added on his wing.

"Alright _Mynock_, thanks for the sighting report return to your normal patrol." _Besh_ ordered. Roblin wondered what would happen up at Theater Command on the _Wilderness_ when his report reached them. Moff Seco was probably dancing between the crew pits on the _Imperial I_-class Star Destroyer's bridge.

The massive fires kept night at bay while the squadron continued its patrol for the next few hours. Unending flak batteries searched the skies for _Mynock_ whenever they passed over the receding enemy front lines. Most of the American anti-airspeeder fire was shot blindly into the air because every time one of the earthlings below turned on a radar, it was quickly snuffed by the quick reactions of counter-subspace radar artillery units on the Imperial side of the lines. The enemy below had been rendered deaf, dumb, and blind by the efforts of the Imperial electronic warfare troopers.

Roblin's cockpit was completely blacked-out and he was flying using the night-viewers in his bucket. His patrol route brought him over an EF76 _Nebulon-B_ that was off-loading its cargo on the LZ-LAX runway. He glanced down at the dozens of CLL-M2 Ordinance Lifter droids unloading pallets of tibanna and artillery blaster shells from the cargo bays of the frigate. They moved with a hurried purpose as a long line of frigates and supply carriers waited to unload their supplies as soon as the runway was cleared for the next spacecraft.

Roblin witnessed long columns of stormtroopers marching towards the front during the night as the third wave of troops disembarked from their transports. Several AT-ATs below trampled the last standing buildings in the Los Angeles basin as they moved up to support the advance set to continue at first light.

"_Mynock_ flight, This is _Besh_, how copy?" a voice cut across his commo. He checked the chromo on his control panel. It was just past midnight local time. His patrol still had several hours to go.

"_Besh_, this is _Mynock_, go ahead." the TIE pilot responded automatically. His killer instincts, honed in flight school, itched for more attacking earth airspeeders. The easy prey that had been the earth's best fighters had turned his rookie squadron into a group of multi-kill aces over the past forty eight hours.

"QI2-1-1, we have a missing TIE/rc to the north of your position. We need you to see if he's been shot down or if he's lost his comm."

"Roger roger, _Besh_. Do you have a last known location on the MIA TIE/rc?" It was common knowledge that FlightOps had sent dozens of the light and quick recon flights several hundred kilometers into the enemy territory surrounding Target East.

"North. Last known position was over the dirtside city of Bakersfield." An indicator light flashed on his flight computer. Roblin flicked an eyelid at an icon on his HUD and a holomap appeared showing the lost recon flight's last known location as well as his own squadron's location.

"Copy that, _Besh. Mynock_ is moving to recon site now." He jerked the flight avionics control stick to the left and led his squadron in a long banking turn to the north.

"Good hunting _Mynock, Besh_ out." Roblin pushed the stick forward and gunned the engines with his foot controls. Within seconds _Mynock_ was flashing over Target East at several times the speed of sound, leaving loud sonic booms in their wake that were hardly noticed by those locked in battle behind them.

Roblin checked his flight computer and spotted a gap in the bombardment that ringed the city. He aimed his fighter towards the gap and raced through the empty expanse. Heat rising from the blasted ground below sent shudders of turbulence through his craft.

The ground on this side of the bombardment zone was vastly different than the area he had just left. Several small fires burned outside the blast zone marking the graves of American artillery, Patriot III, and MLRS launching sites that hadn't been quick enough to evade Imperial counter-battery fire. Other than that the terrain had been largely untouched by the Imperial assault.

Several knocked out bridges and overpasses appeared to be in different stages of repairs enemy engineers swarmed over them. Striker pointed out individual columns of wheeled gravtrucks with their headlights darkened, moving out of the north full of reinforcements. Directly beneath them thousands of enemy troopers constructed encircling defensive entrenchments around the city. Roblin stared through his night-viewers looking for signs the NAU commanders were still sending troops into the city through the bombardment zone but it appeared as if they had been halted and ordered to dig in on this side of it. That's an interesting bit of information that Fleet Intelligence would no doubt be glad to get their hands upon, Roblin thought.

Further north the Upper California terrain was a mix of rolling foothills and blacked-out cities, but through his night-viewers everything appeared in different shades of blue. He noticed a small flight of enemy airspeeders to the east but they were moving away from him at the moment. He wondered if they had spotted his flight of TIEs and were giving the deadly Imperial starfighters a wide berth on purpose. Several areas that had taken damage burned bright in his night viewers, but none so bright as a large conflaguration to the east, which appeared to have taken several broadsides from the heavy turbolasers of a Star Destroyer. He checked his flight computer and got the name of 'Edwards Air Force Base' for the burning scar on the Californian landscape.

They arrived at the last known location of the recon flight and began their search for the errant TIE/rc. "Start a passive scan with your TAGs, _Mynocks_. I don't want the enemy to know we're in town just quite yet." Roblin ordered his squadron as they spread out into a loose search pattern.

"Bloodstripe, I'm getting some pings on my target computer." Striker cut across the squadron's channel a few minutes into the search. "Two kilometers south-west of current position. Sounds like a dying Imperial IFF transponder code."

The flight took less than a second to overfly a hill outside the earth town of Bear Valley Springs. The hill itself had small fires and debris scattered amongst its trees and vegetation. Roblin spotted a crumpled solar array wing on the ground that could only have come from a Siener Systems' TIE craft.

"Bloodstripe, I'm detecting several dozen beings amongst the trees and wreckage. I think the abos are picking over the remains down there." Wampa indicated just as Roblin verified with a quick glance at his life signs sensor. He noted the emergency rescue beacon of the missing craft had never been activated, which meant that his fellow TIE pilot had likely been killed in the crash.

"Line formation, _Mynock_. If they think they can dance on one of our graves they've got another think coming." The ten starfighters aligned themselves in a horizontal line stretched out on both sides of Roblin's lead craft. Their high-pitched ion engines screamed as they dove on the scattering beings below. "Alright boys, lets plow the field!"

At a kilometer out their cannons opened up on the hillside. Blaster bolts shredded trees, vehicles, and beings alike. _Mynock_ squadron poured on the blaster fire until they were at treetop level. The ground exploded behind them as they pulled their TIEs out of their attack dives and began to climb for more altitude.

"That will teach them some respect!" Striker shouted across the channel.

Just as they reached the top of their climb at twenty thousand meters and Roblin started to turn the flight back into the direction of Target East the unthinkable happened. Later, Roblin would recall seeing a momentary ping on his TAG just before the two missiles streaked across the sky and impacted with QI2-1-6's TIE.

The resulting explosion blew apart the snubnose fighter and must have surely killed the pilot, Gungan, along with it. The fireball seemed to hang in the night sky as tendrils of smoke spiraled away from the destroyed Imperial fighter.

"What was that?" several pilots screamed across the comm at once.

"E chu ta! _Mynock_, stick with your panelman. Shout out any contact on your sub-space radars. Bear, I want you to fall in with Striker and myself." He ordered the lost Gungan's panelmate.

"Roger roger, Boodstripe." Bear answered as he pulled his craft behind the two flight leaders

"Bloodstripe, the subspace radar is showing a big dactillion egg, same with the heat sensors." Striker reported. "It's like we're up here alone."

"There goes a pair of them!" Zap shouted out, "Flying low along that ridge to the north. Pair of black, razor-winged airspeeders." Roblin looked in the direction Zap indicated with his night-viewers. His pilot's eyes scanned the horizon for the airspeeders Zap had spotted. He almost gave up, when suddenly he spotted six small dots flying low against the terrain below. He tweaked his TAG slightly and it still showed no return against the enemy airspeeders.

Another flash of a missile came from an unseen assailant east of them, the projectile just missing QI2-1-9's, Teardrop, TIE by a Hutt's hair.

"They're kriffing stealth-airspeeders!" Striker announced to the fighter squadron. Some cultures in the Empire had never developed space travel and had only fought wars in atmospheric conditions. They had developed technologies that wouldn't be applicable in the cold vacuum of space where any anomaly was an indicator for something in the nothingness of the Big Isn't.

"_Mynock_ switch to multistatic and phased-array radar. Turn up your IRSTs and scan for any surface heat from air friction on the wings of those craft." Roblin ordered. He made the modifications on his own TAG and it indicated almost twenty enemy contacts circling his squadron. Tag and Last Place were the first two TIEs to engage a target a few seconds later as their green blaster bolts slammed into the engine cowling of one of the black craft, sending it spiraling into the farmland below.

"You know what to look for! Light 'em up boys!" Roblin screamed. He and Striker let Bear pounce on two of the enemy airspeeders before they were able to realize their trap had been foiled. Twin explosions lit the sky as Bear avenged his panelman.

Several of the enemy craft tried to dogfight with TIEs. They were unequipped with afterburners in an effort to reduce their heat signatures and their slower, TIE-matching speeds left them easy prey for the vengeance-seeking pilots of _Mynock_ Squadron. Five of the craft beat a hasty retreat to the north as Roblin ordered the squadron to reform and head south again.

As they left the battlezone dozens of ground-based radars started up and flak poured into the sky. Roblin wondered why all those systems hadn't been activated earlier in their patrol and why they only seemed to come to life once those stealth airspeeders had been defeated. They must have expected more from their little ambush, he thought.

His main concern as they approached Target East in commo silence wasn't the successful location of the lost TIE/rc or even the new kills _Mynock_ had racked up, it was that one of his boys had been lost over enemy territory. Gungan had been the first pilot under his command to be shot down since the new war had begun and the unfortunate death was just now hitting him. He remembered the young pilot being a practical joker and clumsy around piffers in the Long Jump Casino on Mars. He worried how the rest of the squadron was taking the sudden, unexpected loss of one of their own. He hoped none of them were taking it as hard as he was.

A red glow lit up the southern horizon as they approached the embattled city. The red glare of rocket attacks and Imperial proton bombs bursting in the air proved that the American earthlings were still holding large parts of the city.

The TIE Captain lead his squadron out to sea to avoid having to push their luck once again flying through the orbital bombardment that was crashing down around the urban center. Roblin peered through the smoke, his eyes drawn to a distant _Carrack_-class light cruiser lifting off from LZ-LAX. Green concentric circles erupted across the cruiser's hull as unseen projectiles slammed into the starship's deflector shields. _Carracks_ weren't the strongest shielded warships in the fleet and Roblin wondered if the shields would fail under the mysterious onslaught.

His answer came a few seconds later as a pair of the powerful projectiles punched their way through the craft's diminished shielding and impacted the hull. The starship continued to climb for altitude in a vain hope to outdistance the range of its attacker. Roblin's heart stopped as he witnessed the explosion at the rear of the cruiser that signified the destruction of the cruisers sub-light engines and reactor. The starship lurched to a stop in mid-air over the beaches of Target East. The vessel listed to its port side before suffering a catastrophic capsize that plunged it into the surf and sand below. RescueOPs swarmed over the wreck with their firespeeders, dousing any flames before they could grow out of control.

"Attention all commands, Attention all commands!" An authoritative voice boomed across all of Roblin's flight channels. "Location of enemy high-speed mass-driver top priority. Off-loading of supplies at LZ-LAX has been postponed until the threat has been identified and neutralized." An icon lit up on Roblin's HUD as TIE/WAC _Besh_ fed his squadron a new patrol zone on the outside of the bombardment zone. A couple of quick eyelash flutters at the proper icons and Roblin was leading his pilots in a search for the strange, new enemy threat.

The search didn't take long since the mysterious weapons continued to hurl fiery projectiles at Imperial transports in the upper atmosphere as they fled for orbit. The impossibly fast ballistics left heat trails across the sky that let _Mynock_ easily trace them back to their source. A thick blanket of flak explosions covered a rail siding along the northern rail lines leading into the city and massed enemy anti-airspeeder slugthrower batteries provided protection for the weapon.

Roblin took his squadron above the enemy slugthower fire and reported into high command that he had located the firing site. The weapon itself was so large that it was mounted on the back of several wheeled hovertrain gravcars. Two glowing red barrels were being served by a crew of dozens of beings. In-between shots the super-heated barrels were being hosed down by a nearby fire-fighting landspeeder in an effort to reduce the heat being given off by the blasting of the projectiles. The crew seemed to have no concern about what kind of damage they were doing to their own weapon without giving it a chance to cool between blastings. Eventually the barrels would sag into slag from the immense heat the weapon emitted. Several train cars on the tracks behind the weapon seemed to be carrying generators and huge batteries to provide power for the weapon and two cranes continuously loaded ammunition onto the rails of the odd slugthrower.

"Is that a rail-gun, Sir?" Bear asked. The name struck some distant memory of something he had learned at the Academy. Rail-guns were something that had gone out of fashion several millennium ago in the Old Republic. Plasma and laser weapons were just too efficient and dominant over ballistic projectile weapons. Roblin felt as if he was over-flying some extinct creature from the age of the Rakkatan Empire.

"Palp's Eyes, I think you're right Bear!"

"Hey boss, who'd ever would have thought we'd see something they were using way back when Tatooine was covered in oceans?" Striker asked.

"Fierfek, Striker, I don't think even my grandfather's grandfather's. . .grandfather even heard of those things. All right _Mynock_, let's keep a cap over this thing. No enemy airspeeders are coming to this rail-gun's rescue." Roblin ordered. They began circling high overhead with the weapon continuing to fire at Imperial targets. Though, except for the crashed _Carrack_ the retreating transports seemed to be avoiding taking any further damage due to distance and their deflector shields.

"_Mynock_ Lead this is _Bantha_ Lead, we are inbound on your location." the familiar voice of the _Quill's_ lead bomber pilot broke over his squadron's channel.

"Hey Tusken, good to see you in the neighborhood. We've got a high-priority target all lined up for you."

"Good to hear, Bloodstripe. Anyway you can pull off some of that flak for my boys? We're coming in from the southwest."

"You got it, _Bantha_ Lead, but you've got first round when we see your _shebs_ ship-side."

"Roger roger, we're one minute out on our run, _Bantha_ Lead out."

Roblin addressed the rest of his squadron, "Alright, _Mynocks_. Move off to the east and execute a Suffering Nerf. Move it, move it, move it!"

The squadron of nine TIE/In starfighters kept to the edge of the eastern side of the rail tracks. They flashed their running and landing lights on and off, blasted bolts of green plasma into the night sky, dropped flares for distracting heat-seeking missiles, and popped smoke from their ion engines. Almost every slugthrower on the north-west flank of Target East opened up on them. Near misses exploded around him, shaking his fighter from side to side.

The abos below never saw the ten TIE/sa bombers of _Bantha_ racing inland from the coast. The Imperial assault craft released their proton bomb loads at a height of only a few hundred meters. The high-energy, super-heated projectiles slammed into the giant weapon along with the crews and troopers guarding it. The blue flames and explosions ripped the train gravcars from the tracks, flattening any enemy trooper unfortunate enough to be in their paths. Milliseconds before the train cars were shredded by internal eruptions. The railgun was nothing but a memory by the time the TIE/sa squadron cleared the target zone.

"Alright _Mynock_, let's blow this place." Roblin said. His flight of nine remaining fighters turned south and passed through the bombardment zone and back into living hell of Target East. Two hours later they were hailed by the incoming _Roggwart_ Squadron from the _Purgatory._

"_Mynock_ Lead, this is _Roggwart_ Lead."

"_Mynock_ here. Go ahead." Roblin answered. The first rays of morning were just starting to rise over a distant mountain range in the east.

"Here to relieve your patrol zone _Mynock_. Anything to report?" The arriving TIE pilot asked.

Roblin thought of the stealth airspeeders and the archaic enemy railgun. He remembered the shot-down _Carrack_ light cruiser that was already undergoing recovery operations on a nearby beach. But most of all he remembered the young TIE pilot, Gungan, whose life had been ended in the blink of an eye. To the _Mynocks_ it was everything, in the big holopic it wasn't much of anything.

"No, _Roggwart_. Routine patrol."


	23. Cody 2

**Schofield Barracks, Oahu, Hawaii, Earth**

The AT-TE rumbled down Trimble Road past the shattered remains of Wheeler Army Airfield, towards the crumpled barracks of Hawaii's defenders. The parade ground grandstand was still standing, although it had taken a couple of plasma artillery hits in the fighting before Honolulu and Wahiawa fell. The colorful flag of the North American Union flew above it.

American troopers and sailors lined both sides of Trimble Road, watching silently as the walker strolled past them. Their camouflaged uniforms and body armor were filthy and torn; many wore bandages. They had the weary, past-caring look of beaten beings, though the two army divisions of Hawaii had fought until flesh and munitions gave out.

The reviewing grandstand grew near. A military band, smartened up for the occasion, began to play as the AT-TE went past. The drums and horns sounded thin and lost in the hot, humid air. A single man stood waiting for them in the shadow of the grandstand. Clone Marshall Commander CC-2224 'Cody' leaned down into the copula of the vehicle.

"What is that tune?" he asked his aide Lieutenant Birgaan, "Does it have a meaning?"

"It's called 'The World Turned Upside Down'," replied Birgaan, who had been involved with his American opposite in planning the formal surrender. "Evidently, some European Union troops played it when they surrendered to the Americans in one of their past wars."

Cody shrugged; it was good to hear that these abos could get used to surrendering. He had a feeling if they continued to fight like they had been they'd be doing a whole lot more of it soon. The AT-TE stopped and the driver switched off the engine. The sudden quiet was startling. Cody leaped nimbly to the ground. He had been leaping off of walkers for twenty-two years, ever since his early days in training on Kamino. This time his right knee complained with an ache as he made contact with the ground; a sore reminder of his cursed Kamino aging process.

The man in the shadows stepped forward and saluted. Flashes lit his long, tired face as holocams and Clone military photographers recorded the moment for history. By the looks of him Cody would have guessed the man hailed from Corellia instead of Earth. The American ignored the camerabeings and floating holocams alike. "Marshall Commander Cody," He said without emotion. He might have been about to discuss the weather.

Cody admired his demeanor, "Colonel Ford." He replied, returning the salute and giving Ford a few seconds to remain his equal. "Colonel, have you signed the instrument of surrender of the North American Union military forces of the state of Hawaii, including the 25th and 442nd Infantry divisions and the remaining sailors and marines of the Pacific Command, to the forces of the 1st Galactic Empire?"

"I have." Ford replied. He reached into the left pocket of his body armor and removed a folded sheet of flimsiplast. Before he handed it to Cody, though, he said, "I would like to request your permission to make a brief statement at this time."

"Of course, Sir. You may say what you like, at whatever length you like." In victory Cody could afford to be magnanimous. After all, Ford was the highest ranking surviving officer they had found on Hawaii and was only surrendering a few hundred remaining living troopers.

"I thank you. I will say that I find the terms I have been forced to accept to be overly cruel on the brave men who have served under my command."

"That is your privilege to say so, Sir." The durasteel in Cody's voice belied his respectful words, "I must remind you, however, that my entreating with you at all under Imperial Doctrine for the conduct of war is an act of mercy for which Imperial Center or Culter City may yet reprimand me. I would be within my rights in reckoning you no more than pirate scum."

A slow flush darkened Ford's cheeks, "We gave you a damn hell of a fight for pirate scum."

"So you did." Cody remained coldly polite. "Have you anything further to add?"

"No, sir, I do not." Ford gave the Imperial officer the signed surrender and handed him his sidearm slugthrower. Cody put the pistol in the empty holster he wore for the occasion. It did not fit well; the holster was made for a blaster pistol and not for the .45 caliber brute he was handed. That mattered little though; the ceremony was almost over.

Ford and Cody exchanged salutes for the last time. The American army officer stepped away and a clone captain came up to lead him into captivity. Clonetroopers of his 212th Attack Battalion marched the surrendered American troopers off to the prisoner processing yards near Honolulu.

Cody waved his left hand. The colorful flag came down from the flagpole beside the grandstand. The Imperial banner rose to replace it.

"Let's head back to HQ in Pearl City." Cody told his aides as they strolled over to the PX-4 MCB that had rolled up behind the lead AT-TE.

"Yes, Sir." His aides answered as one.

Muffled reports of slugthrower blasts echoed off the side of the nearby volcano. Cody looked up and saw several blaster bolts from the slopes of the distant hillside as well as from circling MAAT/i over the area.

"Just a few rebel holdouts, Commander." Birgaan reported. "Few dozen groups like this all over the island, Sir."

"Execute any who are caught under arms. They have officially surrendered and anyone who continues to engage our troopers truly 'is' pirate scum. Understood?" He asked. Birgaan immediately spoke into a hyperwave radio on his back and relayed the Clone Marshall Commander's orders.

"Commander Cody, what about the garrison at Hilo? They have approached our troops under a white flag and asked for terms of their own surrender."

"Those enemy units are Marshall Gett's problem. I'm sure he'll accept their surrender just to get this whole thing finally over with. Target _Piper Omega_ is completely in our hands. Does anyone have a final casualty count?"

His chief aide stepped onto the PX-4 and looked over the shoulder of one of the technicians manning a holoprojector map-reader. He looked back up at Cody as the Clone Commander boarded his vehicle by the rear ramp. "In the 212th there were twenty-eight _vode_ dead, mostly lucky artillery strikes or landmines. One hundred forty six clones wounded. Seventeen of those have been listed as critical and have already been put on a MedEvac to the _Tourniquet,__ MedStar-_Frigate. The remaining wounded will be taking ambulance shuttles there later in the morning."

"And the enemy?" Cody inquired as the vehicle gave a sudden lurch as the driver got it under way again.

"Initial estimates are just over 400,000 military and civilian dead, with almost 800,000 wounded and captured. That's not counting the loss of life at sea around the islands of _Piper Omega._ Of those wounded, a little over a hundred thousand have been deemed too injured to take for screening on the local moon."

Cody realized with a trooper's cold reckoning that it was basically a death sentence for those left behind. His troopers were currently sweeping the island for anything that could be of further use to the enemy. Standing buildings were being destroyed, crops set aflame in their fields, airspeeder runways, roadways, and aquatic dock facilities smashed or reduced to rubble. The whole island chain was being razed and sacked as the clonetroopers hurriedly prepared to move on to the next target. In two days only a few scraggly survivors would be all that remained on the scorched island of Hawaii.

In total they were leaving half a million beings behind on the islands. Starvation and disease would probably reduce that number by another fourth over the next year. But what could he do? Mars simply didn't have the resources to provide for a labor force that couldn't take care of itself. From top secret briefings he understood conditions for the slaves that made it to the camp on Mars would make Kessel look like a picnic on Naboo. When he thought of the numbers again he realized he had just sent 700,000 beings to a short, miserable existence from which they would probably never return. And this was only the first stage of Operation _Piper_.

Nearer to Pearl City his PX-4 started passing long lines of GPT-117 troop transports packed with earthling prisoners from the interior of the island. Clonetroopers stood guard over a massive column of marching, near-human earthlings who were being forced at blaster point to collection points inside the still smoking, tropical metropolis ahead. Cody stood in the copula of the vehicle as clone field police waved his vehicle ahead of the captives. Along the sides of the raodway lay shredded earth landspeeders of a hundred different types and the bodies of foolish earthlings who had died while trying to resist his _vode_. For the ones who had ignorantly resisted the Empire he had no sympathy, but the masses of younglings in the column who clung to their mothers or shouted pleas for food and aid tore at his heart. This near-human wreckage was a side of war he had never been taught to deal with on Kamino.

The city of Honolulu looked like a hundred others he had seen during the Clone War. A Star Destroyer, an Imperial artillery barrage, and an overwhelming attack by his legion of clonetroopers had reduced block after block to flattened rubble. His eyes strained to see any standing structures in what the earthlings had once considered an island paradise. Small fires burned and billowed smoke in several places, including a massive conflagration of aquatic naval ship petroleum fuel and munitions down in the harbor area. Cody could see numerous overturned and destroyed aquatic ship hulls in the shallow harbor as well and wondered if the enemy would ever be able to refloat any of them.

A long line of _Sentinels_ traveling back and forth between the quarantine center on Luna and concentration camps here on the Oahu island filled the evening sky. Overhead the familiar shape of the _Acclamator II_-class SD _Fool_ sat like an overly ripe fruit as the setting sun danced on its hull. Up ahead, Clone Admiral Commander Bacara's _Theta_-class T-2c shuttle set down at his Mobile Command Center near Pearl Harbor. Cody directed his driver to get there as fast as he could to properly receive his boss and fellow Clone Commander.

They passed a huge, open-air camp surrounded by razor teeth-wire, just inside the city, filled to over-flowing with earthling captives. Several thousand pairs of hate-filled eyes watched his command vehicle as it passed a long line of AT-APs returning from the field. ___Sentinel_-class shuttles took off and landed on the far side of the camp as they slowly attempted to empty it of its near-human masses.

Outside of the camp, under heavy guard, sat a small group of almost a hundred hysterical earthling females. Each of them seemed to be in some obvious stage of pregnancy. Something caught in the back of Cody's throat as he remembered one of the more sinister parts of Fleet Admiral Yos's invasion plans. He spoke again to the clones inside the hull of his PX-4, "What are the numbers on Operation _Stork_?"

Birgaan provided the answer, "Current count is 411 candidates here on _Piper Omega_, Sir. Luna Base has better screening services and has identified well over six hundred more possible participants up there as well. Are they all to be taken to that special medical facility Moff Culter has set up in Culter City?"

Cody just gave a slight nod. Birgaan shrugged. The less said about Operation _Stork_ the better. He tried to push the unpleasant thought to the back of his mind.

He reached the roadway leading up to the Mobile Command Center, which was guarded by several towers armed with E-Webs. Clonetroopers patrolled the walls and manned the heavy gate. His PX-4 had to weave its way through several duracrete barriers under the watchful gaze of two vigilant AT-TEs before reaching the ray-shielded main gate. A stormtrooper NCO saluted Cody and dropped the shields as his vehicle approached.

Inside the compound details of troopers were already in the process of packing gear onto shuttles and a large _Cargo Empress_-class freighter parked on the Command Center's landing pad for use in future phases of Operation _Piper_. BARC speeders carrying couriers and messengers raced in and out of the military complex with news from all over the island, while formations of _Alpha_-3 _Nimbus_-class V-wings patrolled overhead. Cody was thankful the enemy's devastating local MLRS rocket launchers on the island had all been hunted down and destroyed, or this would have been a prime target for them.

Several guards stood outside the Command Center's commo bunker and Cody ordered his driver to park in front of it. Cody was the first to disembark when the rear ramp slammed down and he quickly turned and descended into the low-light bunker.

Inside, several technicians, including several Martian civilian commo operators, manned hyperspace stations that allowed them to communicate and relay orders all over the island chain, as well as Earth and the fleet above. Technicians manned a holoprojector that switched between 3D images of ___Piper Omega_ and the whole local ocean and its rim. Several officers updated information on the map-reader as messengers came and went.

Over the holomap stood Clone Commander Gett of the Sarlaac Legion in his jungle-camouflaged Katarn-class commando armor with Marshal Salvo of the 32nd Air Combat Legion in his command kama and the motto 'Live to Serve' etched on his stormtrooper helmet in aurabesh. They were his two equals in Operation _Piper_ and commanders of the other two legions in Hawaii. Between them stood Clone Admiral Commander CAC-1138, 'Bacara', dressed in his old Phase II clonetrooper armor with the markings of the 21st Nova Corps and the open faced tank driver helmet that he preferred. Cody raised his eyebrow in confusion at his commander's choice of the outdated armor.

Bacara looked up at the entering Marshal and before Cody could whip off a salute Bacara came around the holoprojector and clasped Cody on the forearms in a traditional Mandolorian greeting of old _vod. "Su'cay gar Cod'ika!"_

Cody laughed. The _Mando'a_ sounded strange coming from Bacara's Concord Dawn accent. "_Elek_, I'm still alive. These _aruetiise_ earthlings have a lot to learn if they want to put a slug in me. What is with the old _beskar'gam_? If one of the abos outside still has a high-powered slugthrower that plastoid isn't going to put up much of a fight against it."

"It's not them I'm worried about." Bacara hinted. He walked Cody over to one side of the holomap so that only the three commanders could hear his words. "Tell me. How did operations go last night?"

Salvo answered. "Excellent. Our three legions took the outlying islands with hardly a scratch. The only lava-flea in the ointment was the local militia was able to keep us out of someplace called Hilo until this morning." Cody looked over at Gett who had been charged with that particular target. The other Marshal just shrugged; Sarlaac Legion had taken the city later in the day while Cody and Salvo had assaulted Honolulu.

"What was the assault like on _Piper Omega_? Did everything go according to plan?" Bacara inquired.

Cody was quick to answer this question, his rage still burned, "E chu ta, No! Where was our promised orbital bombardment? I almost had to send my troopers in on a hardened objective. If Honolulu hadn't been on the receiving end of a quick bombardment yesterday morning followed by the massing of our own mobile artillery units and bombers our boys would have been frakked." Salvo and Gett both nodded enthusiastically along with him.

"By the way, an inspired move getting the earthlings to mass their armed defenders here in Pearl Harbor while your two legions landed at Waikiki and Ewa Beach. It made for a text book envelopment maneuver." Bacara congratulated.

"Our drive across _Omega_ only took four hours after that." Salvo added, "Their resistance was crumbling from the get go."

"What did you hear about your orbital fire support?" Bacara took his helmet off to study the expressions of the three Marshals better.

"I heard that one after another, starting with the _Battle of Qalydon_ then the _Kuat's Storm _and finally the _Pressure_, were all delayed while refueling their tibanna stocks at the _Carbon _refinery vessel. Those starships should have been given the highest priorities in order to get them back on station in time for _Piper's_ kick-off." Cody observed. Their delay had caused him to come up with the spur of the moment plan to mass artillery on the earthlings and then flank them out with his simultaneous landings. Luckily the plan had worked this time. "I hate to think what might have happened if the Earthlings had been ready for it."

Bacara sneered, "Those warships should have been here too. I had saw the orders sent by Fleet Admiral Yos with my own two eyes. Orders that were rescinded by the Theater Commander Moff Seco the second Yos took the _Quill_ back to Mars with his rescued daughter."

"Was it deliberate?" Gett pondered. "Besides the Star Destroyers providing support to Targets East and West, who has higher priority for support than us?"

"Moff Seco saw fit to move the _Insertion_ to the front of the line." Bacara answered.

"That's one of Yos's Subterrel Squadron. They're not a designated fire support warship as far as I know."

"Neither were the next ten Star Destroyers in line. Then our three got further pushed back when the Star Destroyers around the Target cities started to return to restock." Bacara growled, "I had to return here with the _Fool_ to give you boys some support since those three destroyers are still cooling their heels at the _Carbon_."

"Still?" Cody was aghast, "What kind of game is Seco playing at?"

"I don't know, but he's playing with the lives of us and our brothers." Bacara told the three commanders.

"I never did trust those Imperial Governors, nor any of Palp's stooges," Gett tensed up as the words of hate escaped him, "Especially after Order 66. Never did seem right."

"Actually, I have some interesting news regarding that." Bacara leaned closer, "It seems our _vod,_ Neyo, has made an interesting discovery back in Culter City."

"Has he made a dent in reversing our frakking aging problem?" Salvo asked scornfully. Salvo's Twilek wife had just given birth to twin boys back on Mars and feared he'd never see them grow up.

"Maybe. He's got some 'volunteers' going over the reversal process our old friend sent us." Cody remembered the secret message the clone marshals had received from the _Cuy'val Dar_ Kal Skirata just before the 'big jump' that launched them into this local system two years ago. It contained a possible method for reversing their kriffing aging condition. "But the surprising thing he came across last night was, get this," Bacara's voice dropped to a whisper, "A Jedi."

None of the three commanders said a word. Their identical faces were a study in stony contemplation of their torn feelings. Gett had always been outspoken that the Order had been incorrect, Salvo had been involved in hunting down Jedi with Darth Vader himself, and Cody. . . well, Cody had failed to successfully carry out the Order on the Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi. A man he had considered a friend.

"What did he do?" Gett asked.

"He made a deal." Bacara let the answer hang for a moment, "She's supposedly a Togruta..."

"Ahsoka Tano or Shaak Ti?" Cody wondered aloud.

"Neither. Neyo says she's younger than those two would be. She helped Neyo infiltrate a cloning facility. Evidently she was looking for some kidnapped Gran that had fallen afoul of the cloners. Neyo told her that Order 66 was no longer in effect in thanks for her assistance." The clone admiral explained.

"Does that extend to us as well?" Salvo wondered aloud.

"Well, it not like we're getting our orders from Imperial Center these days. Has anyone heard what Yos's or Seco's standing orders are on the Jedi?" Gett asked, "Or the other ones, what were they called?"

"Sith." Cody answered solemnly. He remembered Kenobi and Skywalker talking about them during the war.

Bacara steered the conversation, "Right, those guys. I have no problem ignoring this Jedi on Mars. It could help with our goal of establishing a home on Mars if we have a Jedi that owes the clones a favor or two. As for any Earthling Jedi we come across, Order 66 is still in effect until we hear otherwise."

"Things are going to change after Yos's coronation this week." Salvo observed. "A lot of Imperial poodoo is going to get defenestrated out of the airlock."

"That may be. Onto other subject matters," Bacara started to raise his voice back to normal levels. He turned the command group back to face the large blue-hued holomap of the Pacific region of Earth. "This, however, is how I see Operation _Piper_ unfolding over the next week." Several icons lit up over the map as Bacara spoke.

"Within the past hour recon platoons have taken the atolls of Palmyra, Midway, Johnston, and Baker. Salvo, in two hours you will launch your legion at Kiribati and Nauru. Cody, you will continue mop up operations here for the next twenty four hours before taking your troopers and seizing the Marshall Islands and the nation of Micronesia. Both of you are to use whatever force necessary to conquer each island, but we don't have the time to root out the inhabitants. Use as many life-sign indicators and lifeform sensors as you need. When it comes to captives we're going for quantity, not quality. The _Fool_ will stay with you and provide orbital fire support. If Moff Seco has a problem with that then he can bring it up with me."

"Gett, the Sarlaac Legion will be held in reserve after taking the islands of Fiji, Samoa, and Tahiti. All three of you will push southwest, capturing as many prisoners as possible. But remember, the lives of your clones come first. We didn't bring them all this way just to have them get killed on some coral reef in this backwater system."

"What's expected resistance going to be like?" Cody asked.

"Minimal. The big unions are fighting in Targets East and West. We can expect aerial attacks from the nations of the State of Nippon, Republic of the Philippines, Commonwealth of Australia, New Zealand, and the Republic of Indonesia. All of them were hit pretty hard during yesterday's opening bombardment though, so it remains to be seen what scraps they have left to throw at us. The _Fool's_ fighter wing, under Oddball, should be able to deflect any long range threats to _Piper_."

The plan looked wizard as far as Cody was concerned. A slash 'n' burn scorched-planet drive across this dirtball's biggest ocean. As long as nobody did anything too dumb he should be getting his troopers back home safe and sound to Mars when it was all over with. The next twenty minutes was spent going over the details of the attacks. On the holomap a regiment of heavily supported troopers from one of Salvo's battalions seized someplace named Wake Island, quickly flattening an undermanned NAU marine regiment stationed there, while more and more troopers poured out of the Hawaiian island chain.

Eventually Bacara dismissed them. Salvo immediately ran to his shuttle to race across the Pacific and join his troopers in their Island Hopping advance. Gett wished him well before heading to his own shuttle to rejoin his men on the main Hawaiian island. Cody's aide, Birgaan, waited patiently back at his PX-4 for his return.

"What have I missed while I've been away?" Cody asked as he climbed the tracked vehicle's troop ramp.

"Thermal and life-signs readings show that the boys have policed up most of the abos on the island. The 3rd Battalion is bringing in the last of the captives into the camps now for transport to Luna Base. 1st and 2nd have already boarded the transports and are standing by for further notice. The other three are undergoing demo operations across the islands. Won't be much left here when those boys get done, Sir." Birgaan reported with a smile. "Initial estimates could be low, Marshall. We could have a count of over a kriffing million captives when we pull out."

"Wizard! I want the whole legion boots up and on transports in one rotation."

"Sir?" Birgaan shot him a quizzical look.

"_Piper_ is moving to the southwest. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can get on with our retirement."

"Yes, but Marshal, how many more abos do we have to capture?"

"A lot, and if they endex any more of our ___vode_, I'm going to kriffing kill them all."


	24. Kuat of Kuat 2

**112**th** floor, Bador and Ronay Executive Tower, Kuati Research Sector, Culter City, Mars**

Kuantus Kuat started his last full day as an Imperial Moff with a chill. He clutched his robes of office tighter around his aged body before stepping out upon one of the skyscraper's many permacrete landing pads.

Stretched out below him was the sprawling boom-metropolis of Culter City, made up of thousands of crimson pourstone buildings that stretched from one end of the Ares Vallis to the other. Several kilometers away, on the other side of the crystal blue Yos River that divided the city, stood Tarkin's Tower, one of the few buildings taller than his home. The military headquarters of Mars, named for the Grand Moff who sent them here, could barely be seen through the low-lying clouds that threatened a morning thunder shower.

A storm would have been unthinkable a few scant months ago but they were becoming more and more common thanks to the efforts of his colleague, Moff Culter of Anoat. Thanks to the retrieval of several large sections of ice from the moons around Earth 5 and rising temperatures on Mars's poles, water was starting to return in abundance to the red planet.

It was such a different world from the green and white one that he had been raised on. He sadly wondered how the unreachable planet of Kuat was doing under the leadership of his son, the current Kuat of Kuat. He had no way of knowing whether or not his son still lived or whether he'd ever lay eyes on either his son or his home world ever again. The answer seemed unlikely and he pushed such sorrowful thoughts aside as he tried to focus on the day ahead.

The dull and constant roar of the busy skylane forty floors below his landing pad was interrupted by the whines of his own idling personal shuttle, a _Starwind_-class pleasure yacht that had been built in the KDY shipyards surrounding his birth world of Kuat. His two Kuati aides, Niobe and Gage, stood beside the landing ramp, waiting for his arrival. Both wore the tight robes and large headdresses typical of their Kuati heritage. Four plastoid armor-wearing Kuati Security Force members stood along the ramp to the shuttle and saluted their Kuat of Kuat.

"Good morning, Kuat of Kuat." His aides bowed in unison before his approach. When they were alone he and his aides fell back upon Kuati traditions. Kuantus felt fortunate that so much of the population of Mars, a good tenth of it, hailed from his homeworld.

"We wish you a good morning as well, my friends. It promises to be a busy day for Us, does it not?" He addressed the two aides as they walked slowly up the boarding ramp of the _Starwind_.

"It does, my Lord," Niobe answered. The word _Moff_ was hardly ever heard while he was in the company of his fellow Kuati. "The coronation of Fleet Admiral Yos tomorrow has the entire city abuzz with excitement. Your Lordship will have pride of place during tomorrow's ceremony."

"As it should be," Gage piped in as they took their seats on some sprawling couches in the passenger lounge. Kuat's security detail disappeared to another compartment of the starship. He hardly noticed the craft take off and enter morning traffic enroute to his offices at Kuat Research Plaza. "This should take the populace's minds off the war being fought on Earth for a little while."

"A successful campaign will always be in the forefront of the evening HoloNews," Kuat mused, "It's when We hear hardly anything coming from Earth that We will know something has gone wrong."

"Of course, my Lord." Gage responded. "The so-called Operation _Piper_ has brought in the first fruits of its labors from the Earth. I have seen the reports that prisoners have already been put to work out on the fields of Mars."

"That is Our friend, Moff Culter's area of expertise. We have his assurances that the earth captives will find gainful employment during their stay here on Mars. We trust that none of the supposedly diseased earthlings have found their way to any site here in Culter City or Our orbital drive yard?"

"Emperor forbid it!" Niobe exclaimed. "All workers inside the city are residents of Mars and the original inhabitants of ___Tarkin's Fist_. That is especially true of the dockworkers above."

"Yes, Emperor forbid, but just which Emperor are We talking about?" Kuat offered a fatherly smile to his two assistants. With his own son possibly lost to him he had come to feel as if they were his own children over the past two years here in Wild Space. "What are your opinions of the soon-to-be named Emperor Yos?"

"He doesn't have much of an Empire out here does he? One planet and several moons. Another planet that could swamp his Empire in sheer numbers of beings." Gage observed as he looked out the viewports at the passing cityscape.

"I don't believe it will be much different than the 1st Galactic Empire. The 1st Martian Empire may entail more of the Old Republic's ideals but it certainly isn't free from the Empire's faults. Slavery, genocide, conquest, plundering and all within the first two years here in the local system." Niobe sighed, a certain note of sadness in her voice.

"Yes, the Fleet Admiral must stear _Tarkin's Fist_ in a new direction. But with possible danger surrounding us on all sides in this new, uncharted galaxy he must do his best not to turn back to the evil that marked Palpatine's realm. He walks a razor's edge in this. We believe that Yos has created one of the most beautiful and ideal utopias here in Culter City that We have ever come across in Our time in the galaxy. But the beauty of this metropolis certainly hides the ugliness that is being used to build it in the first place. My biggest fear is that We would be unable to prevent the nationalization of Our dockyard and Our corporations. We were able to circumvent Palpatine from moving on Us but 'Emperor' Yos may be another creature altogether."

"May the Force prevent that. What happens if the 1st Galactic Empire ever finds us again?" Gage asked.

"Bloodshed, surrender, and hopefully some chance that Emperor Palpatine understands the situation we found ourselves in when we discovered this system. Though that hope is slim at best. We predict a gruesome end at the tip of Darth Vader's lightsaber for all of us who bent our knee to the future Emperor Yos."

"Maybe we shall talk of other things, my Lord. Less troubling things to put your mind at ease for the celebrations that will come tomorrow." Niobe suggested.

"We would like that." Kuat smiled and met her worried eyes to let her know she shouldn't fret over him so, ""How are Our troopers doing dirtside on Earth?"

Gage answered for the both of them, "Excellent, Kuat of Kuat, enemy defenses in both Target cities are crumbling and Moff Seco has sent your Lordship a notice that he will have the cities secure and ready for the Alderaanian devices soon. You are scheduled to inspect one of them later today."

"Move that appointment up in Our schedule. It is of utmost importance that We inspect the systems as early as possible." Kuat ordered.

"As you wish, my Lord." Gage continued. He made a note on his personal VersaFunction 88 datapad, "Battlefield reports on the new armor systems the stormtroopers are using are filled with praise and gratitude. Fatalities have dropped to almost two percent normal against the primitive slugthrowers the earthlings are employing against our troops. Most KIAs are coming from large caliber slugthrowers and rockets. It seems to be a matter of poodoo luck for the trooper that gets himself smashed by the large slugs the earthlings are using."

"Casualties have changed quite a bit as well, my Lord." Niobe interrupted her counterpart, "The Martian Medical Corps is reporting an influx of smashed bone and muscles, internal bleeding, and concussive casualties. Wounds easily fixed by our surgeons and bacta tanks aboard the frigates. The laser piercing and plasma burning of normal combat seems to be largely absent in our wounded being MedEvaced to the _Med-Star_ frigates."

"We wonder if their counterparts in whatever passes for the Earth Medical Corps are reporting the same thing?" Kuat pondered with a smile.

"It's doubtful if they are even keeping up with the near-human tidal wave that must be swamping their medical facilities." Gage spoke, "We have been amazed at some of the sophistication they have put into creating their kinetic ballistics and slugthrowers. The various alloys and explosives are truly astonishing, beyond anything we had expected. Not enough to stop our troopers from going forward but a possible cause for concern. I shall forward a report on the matter as soon as possible."

They felt the starship give a sudden jolt as it set down on the executive landing pad of the industrial site that housed the headquarters of not only Moff Kuat, but the facilities of Rothana Heavy Engineering, Rendili StarDrive, and the Kuat Drive Yards corporations as well. "We are here, my Lord."

"Indeed." Kuat rose from his couch and exited the craft. Several ground crew stood at attention as he exited the craft. Flanked by his Kuati security guards he entered his offices. Inside, a small army of secretaries of several different species awaited his arrival. He greeted several of them and accepted a cup of Naboo Ginger Tea from his Zabrak receptionist.

"Moff Kuat," She addressed him as he entered his office suite. The room was bathed in the colors of green and white and decorated with portraits of several starships he had designed. A large model of a massive warship rested on a podium along the length of one of the walls. A transpiristeel curved viewport behind his sprawling desk gave him an impressive view of the growing Culter City. "The designer Shimli is here with some of her seamstresses to perform a final fitting of your robes for tomorrow's coronation. Shall I send her in?"

"That is fine, my dear." Niobe and Gage accompanied the Bothan designer into his office, followed by several beings with the obvious appearance of tailors. They carried with them a repulser cart filled with several elegant and expensive garments.

"Greetings. Moff Kuat, Darling." Shimli practically hummed as she entered the room.

"And to you as well, my Dear. I hope you will forgive me if I conduct business while you and your associates go about your work."

"Of course, you are a very busy, very important being. I understand."

"You know what they say, there's no rest for the wicked." He gave her his most charming smile and a wink. She smiled back and ordered her team to begin their work. Kuat wondered if she would have made the exception for a less prestigious client. Kuantus stood in front of a full length mirror while Shimli draped several formal garments over his thin frame.

"Kuat of Kuat," Gage interrupted from the entrance to his office, "The gentlebeings from CoMar are here as you asked."

"Excellent, send them right in." A moment later three Alderaani beings entered the room with a grace that hinted at nobility.

"Moff Kuat may I present Terex Antilles, Director of CoMar Combat Systems." Gage made the introductions.

"Any relation to Bail Antilles, the former Viceroy?" Kuat asked. He had recruited the Alderaan researchers years ago because of their cutting-edge advancement in the field of particle and ray shielding, including the development of the advanced planetary shield surrounding their own home world. This was generally acknowledged as one of the most formidable defenses in the home galaxy even though his old friend, Grand Moff Tarkin, had scoffed at the notion years ago.

"My uncle, though it is a large family. I'm also a cousin of Bail Organa, the current Viceroy." Terex answered as he formally bowed to the Moff.

"Ah, yes I met him once, after the Battle of Coruscant. A great leader for his people." said Kuat. Terex seemed about to disagree but checked himself and Kuat recalled that the younger male had issues with the Alderaanian government's pacifist policies, not an uncommon viewpoint for a weapon manufacturer to have.

"We have brought the schematics for the devices that are to be deployed at Targets East and West. May I borrow your holoprojector?" Terex asked, shutting down any further small talk.

"Of course, Gage will assist you." Kuat gestured to his assistant who, with a click of a hidden button, activated the room's hidden holoprojector. Terex punched in a series of commands on his datapad and a slowly spinning image of a SLD-26 shield generator suddenly appeared. "Excuse me for one moment, my Ladies." Kuat turned away from the seamstresses and stepped up to the HoloImage.

Terex pointed out separate components, such as projector focusers, emitter antennas, focusing dish, power cores, and the shield projector itself. All-in-all Kuat wholeheartedly approved and only wished that it had been one of his own designs.

"As you can see, Sir, it is dual-energy shield, containing the components of both ray and particle shielding so it should hold up to anything the aboriginal population of Earth throws at it."

"Indeed, though I feel the particle shielding will get more of a workout once the two devices are emplaced. Have you tested them?"

"Yes, my Lord. We emplaced the pair of them on the other side of Mars a few weeks ago and the _Imperial_-class SD _Babel_ engaged both from orbit. Neither system came close to failure; in fact their power cores were hardly taxed. We also engaged them with SPAAH-m to test their ability to deflect kinetic shot with about the same result." A series of technical data streamed across the holoimage, detailing information about the shield ballistic-resistance tests.

"Excellent. What are the crew requirements on these things?" Kuat asked.

"A little over three hundred, not counting any security forces Moff Seco decides to attach to them." Terex explained.

"Stellar. You have my approval for employment." He shook the hand of each of the shield designers before asking Terex, "So after this what is your next project?"

"In the long term we are designing the MPS, or Mars Planetary Shield, which should be equivalent to the one we built on Alderaan. After that I'd like to talk to you about starship shielding on that monster over there." Terex pointed to the large model on the far side of the room.

"In time, my friend. We shall have much to discuss, I'm sure. It has been a pleasure to see your designs. Gage will show you out."

"Gentlebeings, if you'll follow me." Gage indicated the doorway. Terex bowed once more towards Kuat as he made his exit.

Kuantus returned to the intimate attentions of the seamstresses who showed him several different Kuati headdresses for his approval. Kuantus had already passed on several large and imposing ones, when Niobe entered, leading a Neimoidian with several BettyBot attendants and an imposing headgear all his own.

"Moff Kuat, this is Lat Durd from Cestus Cybernetics." The disgust on her face indicated that she was having trouble disguising her disdain for Durd's species. A sentiment Kuat shared. "He is here to petition for the deployment of a weapon system he has developed."

Kuat raised an eyebrow at the corpulent grub. He didn't bother having the seamstresses slow their work this time. "Come in Lat Durd. What is this weapon which you would like to present?"

"Thank you, your Excellence." Even Durd's voice was slimy. He held out a personal imagecaster which immediately emitted the blue image of a type of canister bomb. "May I have the honor of presenting my Defoliator Bomb."

"It's hardly a new concept, nor is it one of your own, Durd. I believe your relative Lok Durd deployed a similar weapon on Maridun during the Clone Wars." Lat Durd looked aggrieved and shocked that his lie was seen through so easily. What he failed to recognize was that Kuat knew the names and developments of most of the weapon designers in the Old Republic, and that included those who had fought for the Separatist cause as well.

"You have found me out, your Moffship. This weapon however is quite different from the one my uncle deployed. His was delivered by artillery, while this one can be deployed from the safety of a sublight speed bomber." Durd recovered.

"Very well, you have a few moments to convince me of your project's merits." Kuat offhandedly signaled the Neimoidian to continue, while continuing to pay more attention to Shimli and her assistants.

"Thank you, this new weapon still works on the same defoliating principle as my uncle's, in that it will destroy all plant and animal life in a ten kilometer radius from its epicenter, leaving only buildings and machinery behind."

"Why is that important? We're not trying to occupy the Earth and leaving machinery lying around will just give the next near-human a free landspeeder to utilize against us. A simple proton bomb would do more to hurt the enemy's defenses and not require the expensive chemical manufacturing your weapon will surely require." Kuat dismissed the Neimoidian's boast.

"Perhaps the threat of starvation could drive the primitive near-humans there to discuss surrender with our leaders. We could drop it on some of their farmland or agricultural centers." Durd suggested.

"Perhaps. Are there any limitations on the effect of your bomb?" Kuat finally chose a hat that Shimli matched to his robes.

"Water is the only downfall of the bombs dispersion. I thought I could use it to wipe out fisheries but the blast seems to have no effect underwater. Fish in ponds and lakes don't even notice the bomb going off. Which is a shame, because we could have used this bomb on thick algae growths on the enemy's unprotected oceans. It could have starved their planet of oxygen in a month or two."

"Diabolical. You seem to be of the same school of thought as Moff Seco, who suggested we just push an errant asteroid into their world during the planning for the invasion. But then where would we receive our new menial workforce? From a dead world? I think not. What is the deployment rate of the weapons?"

"They can be deployed in a single chalk of ten by a high altitude TIE/sa bomber in under a minute."

"So you can defoliate a swath of land ten kilometers wide by a hundred kilometers in length. Not too bad. I'm guessing it would be difficult to deploy against the enemy's frontlines without its effects damaging our own troopers. So what can I do for you?"

"I need help manufacturing the weapon. I only have one droid and a single surly Aqualish lab assistant. We have only produced one hundred of the bombs." The Neimoidian pleaded.

"You'll get no further assistance from me. My factories are at full production levels as we speak. I will promise to purchase three thousand of the weapons when they are finished. I suggest you buy another droid or put one of your 'assistants' here to better use." Kuat pointed to the BettyBots. "I do think your Defoliant Bomb will work as advertised, however, the Terrans are proving to be a tenaciously stubborn lot. I doubt the loss of cropland will drive them to the negotiation table. That will be all." He dismissed the Neimoidian, who bowed several times as he backed his way to the door. Both Gage and Niobe held their noses up as he passed through them.

"My Kuat of Kuat, your shuttle is prepared to take you for your inspection of the 'Special' facility. We should leave now if you'd like to return before the lunch hour and your afternoon appointments." Niobe informed him.

"Of course, my dear," he turned to Shimli, who was wrapping up her work. "Do you have everything you need, your Grace? These robes are the work of a maestro."

"You flatter me, Moff Kuat. We are finished here. I shall have my head-seamstress deliver your finished garments tonight to your suite at the Bador and Ronay."

"That sounds wonderful." He bowed and kissed her hand in the Old Republic fashion. The Bothan's hair fluttered and she giggled while leading her team out the doors.

A light rain had started to fall across the red landscape as Kuantus reentered the landing area. Niobe tried to protect him from the weather as much as she could with a hand-held, particle-shield umbrella as they moved to the waiting _StarWind_ shuttle. His security detail followed in his wake. Seconds after he retook his seat on one of the couches the craft lifted off and joined the bustling skyways of the city.

His craft made the short journey to the top secret gene therapy center on the edge of Culter City in less than ten minutes. This time his craft landed in a secured hanger that raised an energy force field across its entrance as soon as the _StarWind_ was inside.

Several medical personnel waited to greet the Moff as he descended the craft's ramp. Behind them stood a trio of young females dressed in light blue hospital attire under the watchful eyes of several stormtroopers. The Chief Director of the facility approached Kuat and bowed in greeting. "Welcome to Operation _Stork_, Moff Kuat." He said with a huge smile. The man was a Miraluka and kept a veil over his empty eye sockets. A near-human in charge of a near-human gene project, pondered Kuat with a hint to the irony to it all.

The Director's assistants proved to be more near-humans, including a Wroonian, an Ogemite, and an Enso wearing a coolth suit. Kuat was introduced to each of them rather quickly before being shown the three 'patients'.

The three young females appeared to be terrified. Their eyes darted from Kuat's dress, to the near-human medical staff, and then to their stormtrooper guards, who stood at the ready with their stun batons. Kuat wondered what the non-lethal weapons would do to the females in their condition. One of the females sported several bruises and a large bacta-patch on her left arm, while another wore a newly applied plasto-cast on her right wrist. Kuat turned to the medical director. "These prisoners were to be treated with the utmost care and delicacy by express orders of myself and the Fleet Admiral. What have your guards done to this girl?"

"Noth...nothing, Sir. I swear by the Emperor. These females were all taken from a combat zone. Her injuries occurred before her capture." The director stammered. If he had them, Kuat was sure fear would have shown in the man's eyes. "These three as well as the first seven hundred captives of Operation _Stork_ have all received the highest level of medical and prenatal care since arriving at this facility thirty hours ago."

Kuat considered the possibility. He turned to the three females again. "Do any of you speak Galactic Standard Basic?"

The females looked at each other in confusion for a second before the bravest looking one answered. A shorter woman with olive skin and long, space-black hair. "Is what you're speaking Basic? Because it sounds like English to us."

"What you call it isn't important. Do you three understand me?" The three females nodded their heads. They looked as close to base-line humans as any beings he had ever come across. They could have passed for a Coruscanti, Corellian, an Alderaanian, or even a Kuati without a second glance. If it wasn't for a genetic anomaly that left them dependent on the rare element potassium they would have never been labeled as near-humans in the first place.

"Excellent. Have you been treated decently since your arrival at this facility? Have you received adequate medical attention and food?" The females continued to nod their heads in the affirmative. Kuat pointed at the stormtroopers flanking them. "Have our Boys-In-White here been giving you a hard time?"

At that question the females eyed their captors with nervous anticipation before their leader answered for them. "As well as you can expect, for jailors." Kuat nodded his head this time in understanding.

He spoke over his shoulder at the Director standing behind him. "These prisoners have all been medically cleared by your staff, correct?"

"Yes, my Lord. All of the participants of _Stork_ were extensively screened for any sickness while at the Luna Base processing station. They all were required to be malady free before transport to this medical center. We especially screened for the Earth-exclusive diseases, such as the disgusting 'sexually transmitted diseases' that have found a niche on that world. Any prisoner that exhibited even the most minor symptoms was immediately returned to Earth. Or, if found viable and not contagious, they were sent to the concentration camps here on Mars."

There was a collective gasp from the three prisoners. Kuat realized they had all been ripped away from their families and loved ones and brought here. This overheard conversation was the first news they had probably heard of the fate of those they had left behind. Kuat signaled the stormtroopers to take the females elsewhere so that he could continue his tour. The three were turned and quickly were made to march back to where ever they had come from.

The Director led him out of the secured hanger and deeper into the white, sterile medical complex. The cleanliness of the place reminded Kuantus of holopics he had seen of Tipoca City. He wondered if the architects had had the Kamino city in mind when they designed the place.

They strolled across an elevated gantry above a common area cafeteria. Below them, in identical, light-blue hospital garments, several hundred females ate together. Most of them were huddled together in mutual support, while some were seen to be openly weeping or quietly picking at their food. A half dozen stormtroopers stood on guard at the entrance to the room and medical personnel moved through the crowd, each of them wearing some level of body armor protection from attack.

"Have there been many problems with prisoner discipline?"

"At the start several of the new arrivals were quite combative. It was decided for the safety of my staff and their unborn younglings that the more aggressive mothers be sedated for the length of their stay with us. Those prisoners are in a secluded ward where they are under medical monitoring and will only be awoken once they have come to term and then will be safely re-interned in the concentration camps."

"Indeed. Do you expect a lot of repeat pregnancies?" Kuat asked as they strolled along the pathway. They came across a room below them where several of the prisoners were lounging in large, comfortable couches watching a holodrama from their own world. Another holoimager was showing round the clock images from the Martian HoloNews and the prisoners gasped and pointed whenever they saw an image of a being of non-human origins.

"We have a whole team of Lorrdian psychologists on staff here saying that it might be so. From what I understand, conditions in the camp range from sparse to something from the Kessel spice mines. Camp officials have told me the estimated death rate will be at five to ten percent every month, but who knows if they are suppressing the real numbers or not. Once these females are placed in those conditions it will be likely that many of them will strive to become pregnant again so that they may return to our more gentle care for several months." The Director explained as they walked along the white hallways of the facility. They made way for a repulserlift gurney that was loaded with a female in obvious signs of labor.

"Has she undergone the gene therapy yet?" Kuat pointed at the female as she was pushed along by several nurses.

"I don't believe so. She and her newborn will probably be returned to the camps. We have found that if a mother does not undergo the gene therapy before the third trimester of her pregnancy the youngling will still have the potassium dependency handicap, thus disqualifying it from surviving on a purely Martian diet. We start the therapy immediately upon a prisoner's arrival here to insure greater success rates. The patients undergo heavy electroporation and sonoporation with our 'gene blasters', which shoots aurodium-plated DNA particles into the fetus cells using high pressure gas, every day for two hour sessions. It's actually quite painless and non-invasive."

They continued their tour above a medical bay that was filled with rows of sleeping pods occupied by females undergoing the procedure. Technicians, nurses, and FX-9 medical droids moved from one bed to the next checking on the patients. Several of them were strapped down and Kuat noticed the presence of several stormtroopers once again stationed at the entrance. Many of the pregnant females were actually asleep, possibly due to the calming music being played throughout the room. Two Quermian empaths walked slowly among the beds, sending soothing thoughts to the expectant mothers.

"So the first successfully engineered 'Martian' newborns will be born in a little under two months time. Am I correct in assuming this?" Kuat asked.

"Yes, my Lord. That would be in three of the near-human Earthlings' own months. We are estimating the delivery of fifteen hundred to two thousand newborns a month after that. My staff has voiced some concerns, however." The Miraluka's voice betrayed his nervousness.

"Such as?"

"My Lord Moff, the fate of the newborns hasn't been disclosed to myself or any of my staff. We were wondering what the new Empe...I mean what the Fleet Admiral has in plan for them?"

"Project _Stork_ is only utilizing about one-fifth of this facility's space, correct?"

"That is so, Sir. There is a construction crew from Cheiwab Amalgamated Pharmaceutical Company that has been converting the remaining space into dormitories and living space but I had assumed that was for future expansion of Operation _Stork_?"

"In a way it will be. We will be transferring the younglings there for the first five years of life, where they will undergo flash-training in subjects ranging from advanced sciences, engineering, mathematics, and even the social sciences, such as Empirical history and civics. While doing this they shall be imparted with 'memories' that induce them to have strong pride and loyalty to the new Martian Empire. It's doubtful they will have ever heard of Earth before they are entered into military and government service primary schools along with the younglings of _Tarkin's Fist_, here in Culter City."

"Wizard! Such a far-reaching, stellar plan you have come up with, my Lord. I am pleased to be contributing our gene therapy program so that these future 'Martians' won't be dependent on Earth's potassium-rich diet. This could be a great boon if we ever travel back to the home galaxy as well. Any ideas on what the effect on the general population of Culter City will be when you introduce this new generation of younglings?"

"Minimal. Our long-term goal was to introduce up to a million new Martians but we have the means to support up to three without there being any detriment to the population of Mars. There will probably be some protest on the part of the alien species of Mars as to the influx of Humans. We are recording a virtual baby-boom of almost every species here on Mars, almost ten thousand different species, which we hope will soften the blow of so many new humans amongst the population."

"Stellar. What a wonderful vision for our own future you have created for us, my Lord Moff."

"Indeed, if only the rest of the future was so easy to create."


	25. Yos 2

Tarawa, Kiribati, Central Pacific, Earth

Mahmoud sat with the rest of the captives on the warm, sandy beach behind the alien's electrified fence. Overhead several gulls screamed at the helpless prisoners in vain hope for a free meal. A warm breeze blew in from the nearby lagoon.

The wind carried with it the smell of smoke; the island nation's only police boat slowly burned atop the coral reef that circled the atoll. Mahmoud curled his bare toes in the sand as he watched the alien guards move about outside the enclosure. They were so assured of themselves and their easy victory here that several of them walked about with holstered weapons and hardly glanced at the thousands of prisoners trapped inside their enclosure.

Mahmoud wasn't a native of the island nation, having only arrived in Kiribati a few weeks before the aliens had landed on Earth. He hailed originally from Malaysia so his dark skin had allowed him to blend easily into the native population.

He spent those weeks in prayer and sight-seeing around the small island nation, waiting for orders from his commanders that never came. Two hours ago fate and divine providence delivered him his destiny.

The aliens had swept over the poorly defended island with ease. They came with their quick spacecraft and landed seemingly everywhere at once across the island chain. The few fools who possessed guns had been overwhelmed within moments.

Mahmoud had returned to his hotel room and changed his clothes before going outside and facing east. He had been at his prayers when a pair of the aliens had suddenly been at his side. They asked for his surrender, which he gladly gave. The pair of them put him with a group of islanders being marched towards the lagoon where they were then placed in a long line of people being searched by alien soldiers.

It reminded him of the dozens of airport security checks he had infiltrated over the past decade.

A trio of natives had taken it upon themselves to attack one of the armored alien soldiers. The soldier and his comrades had no trouble pulling the natives off of the endangered alien. What must have been an alien officer arrived shortly afterward and fifteen natives had been pulled out of the line. Mahmoud thanked his ancestors that he hadn't been chosen as those selected were coldly executed in front of everyone as a warning for the other prisoners.

Mahmoud finally reached the security check point. The aliens took his shoes, belt, false passport, and wallet and threw them into a growing pile they had gathered from the prisoners before him. They seemed disappointed that he didn't wear any gold or jewelry, but waved him forward. Another guard gave him an intimate pat down for what Mahmoud assumed was weapons or hidden narcotics. The searching guard never questioned why his pants were unbuttoned and waved him forward into the enclosure.

Close to thirty-thousand prisoners baked in the warm Pacific sun for several hours before the first of several strange craft landed on the beach nearby. Mahmoud hoped this was the deliverance he sought because the heat on his legs was starting to soak his jeans in sweat.

Mahmoud studied the craft; big, tri-wing shuttles with a large dorsal fin in the center of the aircraft's hull. A forward cockpit that would obviously be reserved for the vessel's crew. Mahmoud assumed the craft could hold about seventy-five people but as soon as the guards started packing his fellow prisoners on the first craft Mahmoud could see they were getting at least two hundred or more prisoners packed tightly into each of the shuttles.

Ten shuttles arrived and took off again before it was Mahmoud's turn to board one of the craft. The sun was already descending in the west turning the stark white alien shuttles shades of orange and red. The gate to the enclosure opened and he was led across the sand to the next aircraft. In the waning light he could see the vessel was manned by at least five crewmen. The pilot seemed to look out of his window directly at Mahmoud as he was led underneath the craft.

"Your time is close, my friend." Mahmoud whispered softly.

The alien soldiers pushed and shoved the prisoners aboard the vessel until it was standing room only aboard the craft and then they forced on fifty more prisoners after that. Mahmoud found it difficult to breathe in the tightly confined quarters.

Towards the front of the aircraft a solid-looking metal door separated the prisoners from the crew in the cockpit. Mahmoud wished he were closer. As it was he was along the left side of the craft and only a few people away from one of the shuttle's windows. It's close enough, he told himself.

The aircraft lifted off and there were several startled gasps from the prisoners as the motion from the craft shook the packed mass of prisoners. A woman not far away screamed in terror. Mahmoud wished she would shut up. A few moments later someone near the window yelled out in English that they were in space. Mahmoud tried to turn his body to peer in that direction but could only move an inch or two.

His hands could still reach his waist. That was all that mattered.

Mahmoud closed his eyes and started to pray. As his prayers quietly left his lips he remembered his youth on the streets of Kuala Lumpur where he had seen his older brothers and father go off to Pakistan to fight the Americans.

He had only been fifteen when the recruiter from al-Qaeda had found him and taught him a new way of life. A life dedicated to sacrifice and praise of Allah and his prophet Muhammad. For ten years he had fought against the enemies of God from Pakistan to Afghanistan to Israel, and now the ultimate infidel had arrived from the stars. An alien race of devils that had never heard of the glory of Allah.

Mahmoud's pants felt clammy; the sweat of his legs had mixed with the C-4 plastic explosives that thickly lined the inside of the western-style jeans. The alien guard had felt nothing and hadn't noticed the wires that ran around the button fly of the pants to a small detonator no larger than his thumbnail.

Mahmoud lined the buttons up with his freest hand. He drew in his breath as deeply as he could. With what he felt was the loudest scream of his ending life he pushed his voice outwards.

"Allahu Akbar!"

There were a few gasps around him as people recognized the shout.

Mahmoud snapped the buttons together. Two hundred and seventy three souls and five alien devils were sent to Paradise amongst the stars.

**Alpha Hanger, Imperial II-class SD ****_Quill_, Equatorial Orbit, Mars**

"Getting cold feet, Sir?" Captain Nake poked Yos in the ribs as they strolled through the row of TIE racks to his personal _Lambda_ shuttle.

Fleet Admiral Yos flashed his slyest grin back at his old friend. "You know what I am about to do will be considered high treason back home. I'm basically signing the death warrant of almost all of the inhabitants of Mars and _Tarkin's Fist_."

"I wouldn't be too worried about it, Aveo. The nearest ISB agent is probably a billion parsecs away." Yos's old friend reassured him.

Both officers wore their finest dress uniforms. The uniforms of the 1st Galactic Empire were the same as the ones that would serve the soon-to-be born 1st Martian Empire. The only change was in Fleet Admiral Yos's own garments. Instead of the Imperial Gray he sported the white uniform of a Grand Admiral of the Empire. Both his and Nake's sleeves were emblazoned with the service year hashes of almost four decades of service to the Imperial and Old Republic's Navy. Yos also wore a host of medals on his chest that dated back to his early combat experiences in the Stark Hyperspace War and on to his faithful service in the Victory Fleet of the Clone Wars.

"Do you think we'll ever see it again, Natan?" Yos asked. Here apart from their crew, the two friends could use their given names freely.

"The Home Galaxy? Honestly. . . No. Maybe our grandyoungling's grandyounglings. Even after we restart Hypermatter production again there still leaves the matter of the Hyperspace Disturbance that separates us from the Old Empire." Nake didn't mention the mystery of how they traveled this far away from the Old Empire in the first place without long ago succumbing to the passage of age and time. No one had answers to that particular enigma yet. Here in the Milky Way they were, and here they would stay. What Yos was about to do today would go a long way toward forming the type of civilization they would create here. "It would take millennium to cross it, and that's only if we figure out which galaxy out of the billions out there is the home we left behind."

"From water we are born, In fire we die, we seed the stars."

"Beautiful Aveo, anyone I've heard of?" Nake asked as they came upon the row of shuttles.

"A clone I met once during the war, one of the Alpha batch if I recall." Yos contemplated for a moment the warrior poet he had met years ago during the Battle of Anaxes.

Ahead of him sat several shuttles humming away as their engines slowly idled. A new platoon of blue-cloaked guards snapped to attention at his approach. The new guards wore the uniform of the Imperial Guardsmen of Palpatine's court, with the exception that they wore the color blue instead of the deep red the Galactic Emperor had preferred. Adapted from the DiploServe troopers that had protected his daughter, the trooper's duties now included the protection and service of the soon-to-be named royal family of Mars. Yos had learned that their new armor had been a mix of plastoid as well as the anti-ballistic armor Moff Kuat had created for the invasion of Earth. Capable of shrugging off blaster bolt and slugthrower fire alike, Yos wondered if anything short of a Jedi's lightsaber could stop one of the menacing warriors.

The unit of Martian Imperial Guardsmen fell into line behind their new commander as he boarded the _Lambda_ with Captain Nake. Once inside they were greeted by several high ranking members of the Star Destroyer's crew who were coming along for the coronation ceremonies. Yos was passed a flute of Carratos Champagne as several of his loyal crew toasted his upcoming reign. The drinks with his colleagues helped to steady his shaky nerves as the shuttle lifted off for the short hop to Culter City.

Out of the shuttle's viewports Yos noticed several of the new TIE/In Interceptors as they took up escort positions around the _Lambda_ as it cruised over the Culter Sea. The large icy body of water below had allegedly grown larger and faster than Moff Culter had expected and the Anoat Moff had recently told Yos that he had thought of renaming it a small ocean. Yos wondered if he would glimpse one of the pods of cloned aiwha and whaladons that had recently been introduced to the large body of water below. He was only slightly disappointed when he didn't.

The shuttle followed the winding Yos River along its course towards the capital of his new Empire. The wide blue ribbon stood out in stark contrast with the red dessert and green agri-combines that dotted this part of Mars, lining both banks of the river below. Small fisheries pulled cloned Dantooine Garfish, Burra Fish, Quekka and Somov Rit catfish from its swirling waters. Large herds of nerf, kaadu, roba, staga, traladon, fambaa and bantha grazed on the newly terraformed plains outside the metropolis. They passed over agricombine sites where hundreds of thousands of earthling captives toiled to raise crops for the beings of _Tarkin's Fist_, only stopping long enough to watch the passing of his shuttle before guards 'encouraged' them back to their labors.

"Sir, you might have a better vantage point from the cockpit." Captain Nake suggested. The two of them ducked into the crew compartment while the junior officers continued to watch their passage through the hull viewports.

Ahead of them the morning sun was climbing into the sky high above Culter City. The Ares Vallis spread out for dozen of kilometers in every direction. Almost all of it was filled with the colossal red pourstone skyscrapers of the capital. Above the city skyhooks shot off fireworks and other pyrotechnics to announce his arrival to the populace. The pilot slowed the craft to a crawl and dropped his altitude to only a thousand meters over the river. They passed between the soaring buildings of the city and Yos noted hundreds of beings waving and celebrating on the rooftops and balconies they passed.

Below him, the city had been pushed back from the shore of the river and transformed into an enormous, inter-city park that was filled with beings of all species found on Mars. It had been no surprise when he had scheduled his coronation to occur on Empire Day, or what would soon be renamed Mars Day. It was already a work holiday and so millions had turned out to witness the birth of their new Empire.

Yos wished he could have foregone all of this. All this pomp and circumstance was for politicians, not a self-respecting military officer such as himself. The truth was that he sometimes wished he was running the war on Earth instead of delegating it to Moff Seco. Instead he was encouraged to focus on the spread of his fledgling Empire beyond the local system and serving the beings who had come along with _Tarkin's Fist_ during the 'big jump'. He contemplated the massive crowds of beings cheering his name as he soared towards Tarkin Square and its gargantuan holoprojector screens and reminded himself that it was for the beings around him that he was doing this.

There was no real difference between the 1st Galactic Empire and the one they were building here on Mars. All of the institutions were the same, just with new names. For two years the beings of ___Tarkin's Fist_ had felt adrift and lost far away from the familiarity of the Home Galaxy. The birth of the 1st Martian Empire gave his beings a new sense of identity and purpose. The successful invasion and conflict with the treacherous race of near-humans on Earth had united the beings of Mars in a way no political, religious, or economical means could have.

His _Lambda_ glided to a stop behind the incomplete Imperial Martian Palace. Its large Civil-Industrial I-C2 droids were powered down from construction duties for the day's ceremonies. The crowds packed into Tarkin Square were able to see his shuttle land via the HoloNews coverage on the screens above them. Even more spectators were stuffed behind guardrails around the stoic formation of Imperial troops assembled in front of the soaring Tarkin Tower.

Yos and his entourage were greeted by a Rodian Master-of-Ceremonies who guided him into a waiting repulsor limousine 8800. An entire legion of civilians and troopers were insuring the coronation went off without a hitch. A heavy police escort of the Culter City Guard in their red plastoid stormtrooper armor lined the parade route down the Avenue of Empress Teta's Fields, keeping the surging mobs at bay with their Merr-Sonn taser staves. Blue Imperial Guardsmen packed his limousine and rode escort in several other armored repulsor craft and BARC speeders. High above the street level Culter City Guard snipers scanned the crowds with their DC-15x sniper blaster rifles for any sign of a threat.

The motorcade took a half hour to travel the four kilometer route, and the noise of the cheering crowds was deafening, even through the windows of his armored repulsercraft. Finally the limousine slowed to a stop in front of the steps leading up to Tarkin's Tower. A thousand Imperial officers in their finest dress uniforms stood at attention in front of the edifice with a single aisle splitting the formation in two. His Martian Guardsmen lined both sides giving him a secured corridor to approach the reviewing stand that had been erected for the day's ceremonies atop the stairs.

As Fleet Admiral Yos stepped out of the vehicle he was greeted by the bright Martian Sun and the roar of millions of beings chanting his name. The Imperial March blared from hundreds of voice amplifiers hidden above the square. The Guardsman holding his door leaned closer. "Ready, my Lord?"

"As I'll ever be."

Yos took his first step forward as the formation of officers turned and gave the Imperial salute as he passed. Yos wondered how they had heard the order over the roar of the civilian crowd that surrounded them. He barely heard when the Imperial March became the medley 'The Throne Room', which was the anthem of his home planet, Denon.

Yos looked ahead at the faces of those he recognized on the reviewing stand. It was a virtual 'who's who' of VIPs of _Tarkin's Fist_. Closest to the center of the stage stood the Moffs Kuat and Culter, as well as Seco, who had just arrived back from the war on Earth this morning. On one side of the stage Captain Nake stood with several high ranking captains as well as the three Admirals of each of his Moffs' Sector Fleets; Neptu, Hadrian, and Bacara. Yos noted the absence of any General officers from the Martian Army but excused it as they were all involved in ground operations on Earth at the moment.

Behind the Moffs stood the three Directors of his ingenious Bureau of Operations; Captains Dual, Yutu, and Charge, who were the ones who really ran _Tarkin's Fist's_ daily operations. A powerful trio, whom Yos had been assured were firmly under his command.

On the other half of the stage stood the civilian representation of Culter City; the Mayor, a female Selkath whose name Yos could never recall, as well as her multi-specied city council. Several robed figures representing some of the churches of Culter City; the Correllian, Ithorian, B'omarr Order, Skakoan, Weequay, Kuati and Yinchorri religious leaders were just a few of the faiths that awaited his approach with smiles and patience. It didn't feel right that there wasn't a Jedi presence to bless the ceremony as well. Their touch had guided the Home Galaxy for so long that it felt somehow lacking not to have one around for a coronation. But as far as Yos knew there were no Jedi with _Tarkin's Fist_.

In the center of them all stood the jewel of his new empire, Phasma. She looked regal in a delicate, blue gown decorated with expensive Krayt Dragon pearls. She wore her hair in unique, semi-crescent shaped buns on the side of her head. She flashed her father a proud yet humble smile as he reached the bottom of the steps. She was the mirror image of her mother. The face that watched him was the same as the one that he had fallen in love with as a Naval Officer during the Clone Wars from images of her broadcast on the HoloNet.

When he spoke with her before the ceremony Phasma had told him that she had selected the colors of her gown to represent her birthplace of Subterrel. It struck him as odd, considering he had told her hundreds of times that she had been born on the _Quill_ while in orbit around the mining planet, but he hadn't had the time to inquire further. What she didn't know was that she had been decanted from a Kaminoan cloning vat on the small asteroid of Polis Massa, shortly after the end of the Clone Wars.

Not only would that secret have doomed her career in the old Imperial Navy, but now it would have destroyed any chance of her becoming Empress of Mars and him leaving a Yos Dynasty after his own passing. He had no doubts that he loved his daughter and that she loved him. He would do whatever it took to protect that love, even if that involved climbing these stairs and becoming an Emperor to rival Palpatine.

In her hands, atop a red velvet cushion, rested a simple aurodium crown circled with firegems with a large glowing, red Tandgor gem in its center. A bejeweled scepter with a sphere on one end glowing with iridescent red light rested next to it. These were the newly created symbols of his office.

Yos reached the top of the steps and took a knee before the three Imperial Moffs. They stood shoulder to shoulder as they faced their new monarch. He had already guaranteed that each of them could retain the rank of Moff and that they and their families would have high titles and ranks within the new nobility of the Martian higher class. He hoped he had done enough to appease them, as each was a power in their own right in the Sol System.

Each of the Imperial Governors set a hand on Yos's head and shoulders. Each of them had hidden voice-throwers attached to their throats for amplified sound. Culter spoke first, "Do you vow to provide for the growth and expansion of the Martian Empire?"

"Aye, I so vow." His words echoed across the hushed crowds packed in Tarkin's Square. It was an easy vow. Had he not already launched a war of conquest against the only other inhabited planet in the local system? Other plans were already in motion that would ensure for the rapid expansion of his new Empire.

Seco was next, "Do you vow to provide for the common defense and safety of the beings of Mars?"

"Aye, I so vow." With the rising levels of destruction being inflicted upon their neighboring planet and the astronomical distance back to the 1st Galactic Empire it was doubtful that a credible threat would arise against Mars anytime soon.

Kuat's turn came last. "Do you vow to strive for excellence and achievement in all areas and to keep the beings of Mars ahead of all others?"

"Aye, I so vow." _Tarkin's Fist_ had arrived on Mars with so many of the top minds in their fields that Yos was surprised if it hadn't set the Old Empire back a century for discoveries of their own. They had been chartered to be far in advance of any rival when they emerged from the maw, and that hadn't stopped since they settled on Mars.

The three Moffs spoke in unison as his daughter handed Seco the bejeweled crown, "We crown you Aveo Yos the 1st Emperor Regent of the Martian Empire." The three governors took the crown and laid it upon his head. The weight was hardly noticeable.

With those three vows he had taken complete control of Mars and ensured his lineage would continue to lead in the years to follow. Palpatine's Declaration of New Order had been no different; it had come out and declared that things were the same and the Empire was already in place. Yos's vows told the beings of Mars that he was now fully responsible for them, and that together they could build something truly astounding.

Yos stood and turned to face the crowd. The mob roared in ecstasy over their new leader and their own exalted status in the new Empire. From slaves to first citizens of Mars within two standard years was enough to make any being cheer their heart out. Confetti rained down from the roofs of skyscrapers lining the square and fireworks burst high above while artillery around the city shot off salutes to their new Emperor.

Yos bathed in the adoration for a moment, soaking it all in. Then he turned and found his daughter nearby, wearing a strangely forced smile. How her features reminded him of her mother's beauty. He waved her over and she came readily enough and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned and took one of her hands and raised it into the air. "May I present Princess Phasma, heir to the throne of Mars."

If he thought the crowd went nuts over his coronation, they completely lost themselves as the Princess was introduced. Stormtroopers and Culter City Guardsmen looked nervously at the reveling crowd they were attempting to hold back.

Yos had intended on making a speech and tried fruitlessly several times to begin, but the crowd had come here to celebrate and they were already well underway. Yos turned to the Master of Ceremonies and indicated that the next step of the ceremony should commence. The green Rodian spoke quickly into a hand held comlink.

A minute later fifty of the new TIE/In Interceptors raced over the square at several times the speed of sound. The sonic booms left in the wake of their passing startled the crowd from their revels and their heads turned to the sky. High above the city the _Quill_ was dropping from orbit to symbolize the awesomeness of the new Emperor's power. The _Imperial-II_ class Star Destroyer quickly came to rest several kilometers above the red city.

Thunder drums beat from down the Avenue of Empress Teta's Fields, indicating the start of the military procession. A pair of AT-ATs led the march as their heavy footfalls shook the crowds lining the park strewn boulevard. Behind them came thousands of marching stormtroopers in gleaming, white plastoid armor. Their perfectly timed march echoed over the crowd. Yos was impressed; the beings under that armor were new recruits and Imperial Marines usually stationed aboard the Star Destroyers of the fleet. Most of the actual troopers that made up the Stormtrooper Corps were fighting on far away Earth in much different armor systems than the blaster resistant ones these troopers sported.

The Interceptors returned and flew several formations over the crowds. Here Yos knew also that most of the pilots involved in this show were new recruits from the Martian Imperial Academy, flying fighters that were more advanced than those his best pilots were dog-fighting in over the Earth. Yos hoped none of the noobs collided into one another and came crashing down on the heads of the onlookers below.

Next came thousands of Naval officers and sailors released from the _Quill_ and several of the orbiting frigates for the parade. Their gray uniforms certainly got the attention of several pretty females in the crowds who sent catcalls and whistles toward the navy men. Yos wondered what Palpatine would have thought of all the different species that made up those ranks as they passed by his reviewing stand. Well, what could old Palps do about it anyways? He asked himself. Not a sithspawn thing, he easily answered. Here on Mars the concept of High Human Culture was dead and buried.

The parade continued with several examples of armored vehicles and walkers passing by in neat formation, followed by a large contingent of the red-suited Culter City Guard. Several prominent city officials, a few HoloDrama stars, Culter City's two limmie teams, and a famous podracer waved to the crowds from atop dozens of giant floats that truly floated on repulsor lifts down the elegant boulevard.

Younglings across the square squealed as giant helium filled balloons were towed into the square. The balloons were in the shape of a friendly rodent and his friends that had been the subject of several popular animated HoloDramas that had come from the Earth and been cleared by intelligence as non-propaganda from the enemy.

He looked over at his twelve year old daughter, so recently rescued from captivity on Earth. Her expression seemed to be etched in stone as she watched the parade. He wondered what she would have been like if he hadn't pushed her so hard to succeed, if he had provided her with a normal childhood. The crown upon his head as well as the small diadem she wore declared for all to see that the opportunity for a normal father-daughter relationship had long passed both of them by.

The HoloNews had changed her into the public face of Mars. Paparazzi now dogged her every move. Yos hoped he would have more time to spend with her now that they were the Royal Family but he was afraid that his duties might double or triple now that he wore the crown. One thing was sure; he would be damned if she ever set foot on the treacherous Earth again.

The final part of the parade was made up of several Cathar Parade Skiffs packed full of younglings dressed in the new uniforms of the Martian Youth. Yos wondered how long it would be before their ranks were filled with the products coming out of Operation _Stork_. The younglings carried huge gray banners with them, each bearing the Imperial Crest of the 1st Galactic Empire. The only difference was the addition of a large red circle in the middle of the symbol representing the red planet of Mars. It reminded Yos of a rising sun. Across the square hundreds of pennants were suddenly lowered and the new flag of the Martian Empire was raised in their place.

Yos quietly chuckled to himself. So much had changed on the surface but underneath it all it still remained the Old Empire. Some things would change for the better; he wasn't about to reinstate a Martian Senate after the ineptitude of the Imperial one. From what he had seen there hadn't been a strong cry by the populace for one either. The weak examples of oddly named Congresses and Parliaments on Earth showed further proof he was right. Power here on Mars would stay in the hands of the elite. Sure, he would have free trade and an open market so that anyone could rise in status, but control would stay within his family if he had any say in it, and he did.

The three biggest threats to that claim stood alongside him in the reviewing stand. The Moffs smiled for the crowds and waved at onlookers and well-wishers but remained stiff and cold whenever they had to address each other. Yos studied his Moffs for a few moments and noticed that Kuat and Seco never said a word to each other directly while Culter seemed to act as an intermediary with whom the other two seemed to get along. Yos wondered what else he could do to flame the animosity between the two to take their focus away from any plots they might have against him.

Culter himself had been easy enough to distract. All his sources said the Anoat Moff had no desire to grab more power for himself. For his loyalty Yos had assigned two frigates to Culter's expansionist terraforming efforts. It seemed Earth 2, or Venus as the earthlings called it, would be the first colony of Mars. The quiet Moff had already secretly, with Yos's approval, filled a colony ship with two hundred Skakoan and Morseerian scientists and engineers and sent them off to Earth 2 with terraforming equipment and two thousand clones of their species still in their cloning vats aboard the first colony starship built in the orbiting KDY Drive Yards somewhere in orbit above them.

The new clones had been a surprise and when he had ordered Captain Yutu to investigate he had discovered that the Anoat Moff had squirreled away ten Kamino cloners aboard his flagship before the 'big jump'. A dangerous move considering how many of his Anoat fleet had turned out to be clones themselves. He could see the merit in clone colonists that would be loyal to the Empire. However, the presence of the Kaminoans had remained a closely guarded secret, especially after he had banned the practice of cloning workers on Mars in favor of cheaper slaves from Earth.

Seco was the easiest to figure out. The Ploo Moff wanted conquest and the glory that came along with it. Yos had provided it for him in spades. Seco was the so-called Theater Commander of all military forces aligned against the Earth. His troops were securing victory after victory as they pressed on into the interior away from their initial landing sites.

As long as Seco was kept busy with the earthlings he could be kept in check. Besides, every captive Seco's troopers took in Operations _Piper_ and _Stork_ strengthened Yos's own power here on Mars while weakening the Earth's defenses and kept Seco's stormtroopers occupied. The fact that those two operations strengthened Culter and Kuat as well bothered Yos not in the least.

Keeping the so-called Kuat of Kuat busy was another matter. The Kuati male was always occupied with some project or another. On clear nights you could make out the gigantic keel of the next generation of warships the Kuat was constructing in orbit at his mobile drive yard. New surgeries and medical practices Kuantus had discovered from the earthlings had surprised everyone and launched a baby boom amongst most of the alien species of _Tarkin's Fist_. New innovations in botany, construction, engineering, armor systems, flight systems, or ship design came out of Kuat's Research facilities and orbital laboratory vessels every standard day.

Kuat really was the living embodiment of Grand Moff Tarkin's dream of a Utopian society built upon achievement. Yos smiled to himself, knowing that his coronation as the Emperor of Mars was the perversion of that dream. Well, his old friend Tarkin was possibly trillions of parsecs away and perhaps calling for them at that very moment. That call would never reach Mars. Even if it could he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to answer it anymore.

A steward carrying a tray of Corellian champagne flutes approached the dignitaries in the review box. The new Emperor and his three Martian Moffs each took one.

Yos raised his glass high, "Gentlebeings, to the Empire."

"Long live the Emperor!" They echoed. The celebratory roar of millions of beings drowned out whatever each of those Moffs was mumbling under their breath.


	26. Yutu 2

**Martian Imperial Palace Gardens, Culter City, Mars**

It wasn't hard for Yutu to imagine what the palace would look like once all of the new construction was finished. Several construction droids sat recharging under tarps in the dark corners of the garden, waiting for the celebration to conclude before resuming their work. Stacks of white and red marble lay next to the droids and Yutu tried to imagine where they would be placed inside of the palace. For now that's all he could do because it would still be months before the colossal habitation was finished.

Yutu refused yet another flute of champagne from a pale purple Keshiri waitress and turned back toward the festivities. Around him hundreds of dignitaries and courtiers mingled on a large dance floor as they celebrated the Coronation Ball. Several colorfully dressed females danced with their uniformed partners to the music of a mixed Bith and Mon Calamari orchestra. Two full bars serviced the crowds and a crew of caterers ensured everyone was without the slightest need or want.

High above them fireworks continued to burst across the sky as the populace of Culter City celebrated the crowning of their new Emperor. The moon Phobus loomed large in the night sky. Several bonfires blazed around the outdoor dance floor to ward off the usual chill of the Martian night. He had thought that Moff Culter's terraforming efforts would have remedied that by now but the cold had proven to be a stubborn adversary. Yutu looked around and finally spotted the Anoat Moff in attendance with his wife chatting with several of the city's civilian councilmen. Yutu hoped that the Councilmen were the closest things Mars would ever have to an inept Imperial Senator.

Culter, always the most unassuming and unnoticed of Moffs, had pulled an intelligence coup on him in the past few weeks. The ex-Imperial Governor had squirreled away ten Kaminoan cloners who had been able to clone almost two thousand Skakoan and Morseerian beings capable of withstanding the harsh conditions of Earth 2. While he could see the need for the existence of the first colony of Mars, Yutu had been infuriated that he had not been informed of the new Emperor's and Moff's scheme. Especially that he had been kept in the dark about the presence of the ten Kaminoan. Their location was still a secret, though Yutu suspected that they were somewhere on one of the orbital laboratories high above the planet.

Yutu strolled through the crowd towards the Moff, planning on digging any information he could out of the higher ranked male. Several females of varius species smiled and winked at him as he passed by. Yutu would have been flattered. He had recently reached his thirtieth birthday and maintained his physique with a daily morning exercise regimen so he felt confident enough in his appearance. But he was positive those same females would have paid him no attention at all if it hadn't been for the Captain's rank badges and the crimson dress uniform that identified him as one of the Directors of the powerful Bureau of Operations. He wondered if the earthlings ever had to worry about their females being credit-hungry aurodium-diggers.

"Captain Yutu, greetings to you this fine evening." Culter declared loudly as Yutu approached the small group gathered around the Moff. It was quite obvious the Governor had been hitting the bar often this evening; he was stumbling around like a Gamorrean in a Hutt's rancor pit. His wife held onto his arm, not out of companionship, but for what Yutu was sure was an effort to steady her husband and prevent him from embarrassing himself.

Before Yutu could respond Culter indicated a Naval officer with the rank squares of a Lieutenant Commander. "Yutu, this is Commander Taku of the _Lancer_-class frigate the ___StarGate_."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir." The junior officer whipped off a crisp salute to Yutu.

"The _StarGate_ you say? I've been briefed about your unique mission. How long before you depart?" Yutu inquired, never taking his eyes off of the drunken Moff.

"Five standard days. The last of our equipment is being loaded on board my vessel at the Margaritifer Terra Spaceport. We've been using some of those new prisoners to do the heavy lifting for us. Saves us putting a strain on the droids, Sir."

"How long will it take you to arrive at your destination?" Yutu finally turned and faced the officer.

"Two years on sublight speeds. We will be erecting S-thread boosters and laying hyperspace beacons behind us the entire way to Epsilon Eridani. The Moff has promised that hypermatter production here on Mars will begin shortly and a packet vessel will be dispatched to refuel us with the faster fuel sometime in the second year. After that it shouldn't take any time at all to reach that gas giant the earthlings discovered for us out there."

"I hope to have colony ships in that system within three years. I predict a successful colonization of the second Martian system in less than half a standard decade." Culter added.

"Hyperspace travel would only be what. . . a half hour or so between the two systems?" Yutu asked.

"More or less, depending on your hyperdrive class, I would assume. Especially once we map a reliable hyperlane." Taku answered. "The _StarGate_ is ordered to continue onto another planet in the 61 Virginis System in the Virgo constellation. We should make planetfall there at the end of three standard years."

"Exciting times, exciting times indeed that we live in, Director." Culter chuckled with glee. As if the promise of future worlds to transform enlivened his mood. "But these are also infuriatingly dangerous times, as well. Tell me, Captain Yutu, have you heard anything through your spy network of this rash of thefts regarding cloning material and equipment from around the city? Several of the capitol's top agricultural and livestock cloners have disappeared as well."

"I have already given you my assurances that my top detectives are on the case, your lordship." A male Devaronian in the formal uniform of the Culter City Guard interjected from the fringes of the group.

"Oh, I have no doubt Commissioner Jord'dan'. I'm am just relieved that my 'special' cloners were in a safe location before this recent crime wave began." Culter turned his back on the police commissioner and led his entourage to another section of the ball in a huff at the Police Commissioner. Yutu let the inebriated Moff go. He knew enough of Culter's future plans to know that the Anoat Moff wasn't a threat to the throne. If it wasn't for the charity of the new Emperor, Culter would be brushed aside in an instant.

"Moff Culter is correct about these being dangerous times. Who do you suspect of these thefts? Black Sun? Invisible Marketeers? Swoop gangs?" Yutu asked the dejected police chief who had remained behind when the rest of the group moved on.

"Could be. But the evidence at the crime scenes doesn't have the appearance of the Black Sun. Besides, they've been laying low ever since the _Abandoned Hope_ incident and we arrested all those Gran Vigos a couple of months ago."

"If there's anything my services can provide, just say the word." Yutu offered.

"These jobs look like they were done by a professional. Like a 'military' professional. If you could keep an eye out for any of this missing hardware showing up in the hands of the army or navy it would be most appreciated." Upon hearing this Yutu immediately began to suspect Moff Seco's hand in all of this but he said nothing about his suspicions and in the ensuing silence the police chief continued. "Oh, and one other thing was strange at one of the thefts."

"What's that?"

The police commissioner leaned in close and spoke in a whisper. "You wouldn't know of the presence of someone wielding a lightsaber anywhere on Mars, would you?"

"By the Core, a Jedi?" Yutu gasped. "How interesting."

"Just a suspicion from some of the marks seen at one of the crime scenes. My Guard detectives and troopers haven't been issued any new orders regarding those traitors. You wouldn't know whether or not Order 66 is still in effect in the new Empire, would you?"

"Not as far as I know. The new Emperor will be issuing several new edicts over the course of the next week. There's no knowing which of Palpatine's policies he will continue here on Mars. I haven't heard that Emperor Yos has any animosity towards the religious order like Palps did. I do know he never had anything to do with Order 66 as there were no Jedi aboard his vessel at the end of the Clone Wars."

"It sounds like he won't have us digging under every rock for those zealots like Palpatine did. It should be a bit of relief; my boys can concentrate on real police work then." The Devaronian suddenly grinned a devilish smile. "Excuse me, Captain, but I believe my glass is empty." He held up a tumbler that had recently been filled with Corellian Tidal Whiskey before making his way to one of the bars.

Yutu was in no hurry to replace his empty champagne flute. He found these social events to be intelligence aurodium mines and wanted to be lucid enough to remember everything that he learned. Who would have thought? A possible Jedi on Mars? Who knew what other interesting tidbits of information he could glean from the drunken party-goers around him.

The dance floor in the middle of the garden was filled to capacity with swirling couples from dozens of species. He spent a moment admiring a strikingly, curvacious Pantoran female dancing with an elderly male Umbaran. The blue piffer sent him a wink that promised much more and he wondered whether or not he should ask to cut in.

His distracting thoughts were interrupted when one of his Co-Directors of the Bureau, Captain Dual, swept across the dance floor with a green, female Twilek junior officer who was decidedly not his wife. Yutu wondered if he should step in and stop the scandalous behavior before it went too far as he scanned the crowd for Dual's surely incensed spouse.

Instead he spotted his other Co-Director, Captain Charge, sharing a laugh with Moff Kuat who wasn't hard to miss in his ridiculously tall Kuati headdress. Throughout the evening several other Kuati in their gargantuan headgear had nearly toppled the firelight torches that lit the gardens. Yutu started over to Captain Charge and Moff Kuat, choosing to let Dual deal with the marital turmoil he was creating on his own.

As he crossed the room he spotted Moff Seco at one of the bars speaking closely to the ears of a pair of officers, a beautiful Lieutenant Commander with gunner's patches on her tight-fitting uniform and a male in a Naval Captain's uniform. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the man; Captain Volt, recently promoted commander of the _Insertion_. Why was a Captain of one of the Yos's Subterrel Squadron's Star Destroyers in such intimate conversation with the Ploo Moff?

He could have waved it off. Several Captains had taken furloughs from their commands for the evening to participate in the coronation. The bombardment of Earth had slowed to infrastructure and military targets and their crews could handle things for a duty shift or two without their commanders. Moff Seco was the Theater Commander of the Earth Assault Force, and as such he had the right to have contact with all the Captains under his command, but there was simply something suspicious about the way the three officers were huddled close and chatting.

Every now and then one of them would look across the ballroom. Yutu looked to where their gaze fell, and spotted the newly crowned Emperor Aveo Yos the 1st surrounded by courtiers. Yos still sported his Grand Admiral's white dress uniform as well as the crown the three Moffs had placed upon his head this afternoon. Several blue royal guardsmen stood to the side, no doubt scanning the crowd for threats. They were professional killers, each and every one of them, and loyal to the royal family alone. Yutu wouldn't have wanted to meet one of them in a dark alley.

He suddenly remembered what bothered him about the presence of Captain Volt. The officer had been a suspect in the investigation into the presence of an ISB mauler virus that had been found in the slave rig during the 'big jump' here to the Sol System. The investigation had stalled over the past year as leads mysteriously dried up. Yutu wondered if the Ploo Moff was a lot closer to the new starship Captain than was previously believed. What else could the Imperial Governor be hiding?

Someone tapped Yutu's shoulder, tearing his eyes away from his huddled prey. He spun around to see the young Princess Phasma flanked by two of the blue armored, royal guardsmen.

"May I have this dance, Captain?" Phasma gestured gracefully towards the dance floor. The guardsmen stood out of the way, menacingly silent. Yutu wondered what they would do once the Princess started dating.

"It would be my pleasure, your Majesty." He offered his arm, which she entwined her own arm into as he guided her out onto the dance floor. The guardsmen stayed on the edge of the crowded floor, never taking their eyes off of the pair. The crowd separated to make way for the heir to the Empire.

The orchestra struck up a Ganther dance tune and the couples around them began to waltz. Yutu towered over the young princess as he took her hand and started to lead. Her blue gown swirled about and flashed brightly against his crimson uniform. Her tiara glittered in the low lights of the dance floor.

"What have you found out about my father?" she asked in a soft voice.

"You understand that everything I have had to do had to be on my own and with the utmost secrecy. My life span might be greatly shortened if the new Emperor knew I was investigating him on this matter."

"I know. Believe me that I hope my protection will be enough if he ever finds out. What have you learned of his involvement with clones?"

"Very well. As with any officer who served with the Republic Navy during the last war, most of his crew was made up of clones from Kamino and Centax-2. After the conclusion of the war following the Battle of Utapau he was placed under the command of Grand Moff Tarkin in the OverSector Outer, and once there granted command of the Subterrel Sector. He was also given, as a flagship, the star destroyer _Quill_, where you were born in orbit around the planet of Subterrel."

"That much is common knowledge and a matter of public record. Is there anything new you found out, perhaps about my mother?" They spun and moved about the dance floor.

"Tell me, what do you know about the greater Subterrel Sector?" he asked.

"Quite a bit as I lived there my whole life before the 'big jump'. The Subterrel Sector is in the Outer Rim Territories, between the Rimma Trade Route and the Hydian Way. Some of its planets include Subterrel itself, Fwatna, Orax, and Kallidah, each of them an important mining colony for the Galactic Empire and each more boring than the last." She answered with textbook precision.

"Did you ever hear anything about the Polis Massa asteroid belt?"

"The home to those little archeologist beings? What were they called? The Kallidahin, right?"

"Correct. They were obsessed with finding the remains of the Eellayin beings, the original inhabitants of Polis Massa. The Kaminoan had entered the Subterrel system decades ago to clone shovel-handed miners for the mines there. They had dealings with the Kallidahin on Polis Massa and were able to impart some of their cloning methods so that the Kallidahin would be able to clone any biological samples they came across." he explained, only having learned this information a few days ago himself.

"So there are cloners in the Subterrel Sector?" she gasped.

"Not on any grand scale, unlike the Kaminoan or Khommites. But the _Quill's_ duty logs show that she was in orbit for several months around the Polis Massa dig site, not around Subterrel. In order to find out more I had to illegally access Captain Nake's personal datapad journal. He hints that your father 'arrived' on the _Quill_ twelve years ago with a newborn daughter, from Polis Massa."

"So I wasn't born aboard the _Quill_?" Surprise robbed her voice of any measureable sound.

"It doesn't appear so. Unfortunately, in all of my searching I've found no mention of who your mother might be. The sample of your blood that you provided did show evidence of cloning but nothing more. I personally destroyed that sample as well as the results of the test."

"Thank you." She whispered and appeared deep in thought. Yutu watched her process this new information and wondered what she would do if she realized that he was the only living proof of her clone status. She was the future Empress of the Empire, after all, and that status was to be protected at all costs.

Yutu continued. "The records of the Polis Massans are, of course, beyond my reach. With your permission I could do a facial recognition survey and DNA scan of individuals we have files on from the Old Republic and the early days of the Galactic Republic. We have a little over a quadrillion samples and mugshots. It's not much but maybe we can find some clue to the identity of your mother, or at the very least a relative?"

"Yes, carry on. I trust this will be done in secrecy as well?"

"Your Highness, one does not become the Director of Intelligence without the ability to cover up a medical test result or a facial profile scan. You have my guarantee of silence on this matter."

The song ended and the dancers applauded for the orchestra.

"Please do not hesitate to inform me of any new developments, Captain."

Yutu gave her his most elegant bow from the waist and kissed her extended hand when she reached out with it. She curtsied and returned to her guards, whose presence kept other would-be dance partners away from the Princess.

The orchestra began to play a tune from the musical The Menace of the Opera and the crowd began to dance once more. Yutu edged to the side of the dance floor, where he was approached by the new palace Majordomo. "The Emperor requests your presence, Captain Yutu."

"Does he, now? Well, you better bring me to him then." The servant spun around and headed towards the Emperor's table without a second glance backwards to see if Yutu was actually following or not. Emperor Yos was in a conversation with the Socorro officer who held the post of Superintendent of the new Imperial Martian Academy.

The Majordomo announced Yutu's arrival. "Your Majesty, may I present Captain Yutu of the Bureau..." Yutu cut the servant off by whipping off one of his finest salutes, which Yos happily returned with the knowing wink of an old-academy flag officer. Several tongues around the crowd were whispering at the audacity of not showing proper respect by bowing to the new Regent. Yutu knew Yos better than most, and he knew the old man of Mars was a creature of habit. Habits formed by half a century in the service of one Navy after another.

"Your Majesty, once again I congratulate you on your bloodless rise to the throne." Yutu laid on the flattery; no doubt Yos had been listening to it in one form or another throughout the evening. "If only changes of leadership were so peaceful in the Home Galaxy."

"Too bloody true. The bloody Clone War, which gave Bloody Palps his opportunity to rise, was bloody enough." Yutu chuckled and the Emperor smiled and continued. "I saw you dancing with my daughter out there and wanted to commend you once more on her successful rescue from that Alcatraz dungeon. Well done, Son. Well done indeed."

Yutu wondered if the Emperor still harbored feelings of resentment towards him for the princess's initial capture. He remembered with a chill how close his head had come to the chopping block. Instead of being the villain, however, he was still getting used to the role of the hero. Yos spun Yutu around to face a dozen holocam operators from the HoloNews. "Boys, this here is Captain Yutu, the man who led the daring commando raid on the Terrans of Earth to rescue my daughter, Phasma." He wrapped his arm around Yutu's shoulders and smiled for the paparazzi.

As a spy, Yutu hated having his holopic taken, not that anyone on Mars didn't already know what he looked like. His face had been plastered over the city after the rescue, and even before that he had occasionally been seen as one of the shadowy Directors of the Bureau of Operations which ran Mars and _Tarkin's Fist_ in the new Emperor's name.

"A splendid job, boy." Yos whispered under his breath. "The happy juice hasn't made you dead as Honoghr has it?"

"No, Sir. I'm no jet-juicer; I can handle my alcohol. However, you may want to address Moff Culter on the same subject matter."

"Ah, let Uredo have his fun. He's the one who is going to take the Martian Empire to the stars themselves, after all. Any updates on the special 'Elimination' orders?" Yos asked bloodlessly.

Yutu switched to professional mode. "Confirmation of kills on the Russian President, the Prime Ministers and leaders of Australia, United Kingdom, Indonesia, Pakistan, Israel, Iran, and the African Union. Still no word on the Chinese Premier but signal interceptions are pointing to the conclusion that he may have been hit by our orbital bombardment and is either dead or seriously wounded. 'El Presidente', as he calls himself in the Union of South American Nations, is broadcasting loud, condemning statements almost every hour. We're pretty sure he's on the move we almost nailed him when the _Kuat's Hope_ destroyed Brasilia during the opening bombardment. The North American President also appears to be on the move. We have confirmation that he's moving around his country, probably by airspeeder, and I've issued search and destroy orders on any sightings of this 'Air Force One' craft of his."

"Good. I feel those surviving leaders could be rallying flags for any resistance movement. The sooner they're eliminated, the sooner the earthlings will surrender."

"Of course, Sir. . . um, My Lord. I have my best agents working on it." Yutu assured his Emperor.

"It's alright. I'm having some difficulty with all the name changes myself. But I do have some bad news that could take you away from the festivities here tonight."

"It is my duty to serve, your Highness."

"Excellent. The first of the special packages from Earth are scheduled to be delivered at the Margaritifer Terra Spaceport in the next hour or so. I've ordered the HoloNews to stay away from the site but I would like a high level representative to meet the delivery."

"Of course, it would be an honor. If you'll excuse me then, Sir, I should probably leave now if I'm to meet the transport on time." Yutu saluted his Emperor once more in the old Imperial fashion, and Yos returned the gesture.

"Good luck, Captain. I shall see you at the next briefing later in the week." The two men nodded to each other before Yutu turned and moved through the crowd. In front of the palace a valet brought his Gaba 18 airspeeder around.

"You might want to avoid the riverfront downtown, Sir. Traffic is at a standstill down there due to the celebrations." The young valet offered as he jumped out of the vehicle.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that." Yutu said as he flipped an old Imperial credit to the valet as a tip. Within seconds his airspeeder was clawing for altitude and heading for the Tarkin Express Airway that ringed the city. Outside his windscreen he watched the city aglow with celebrations as searchlights and fireworks continued to light the metropolis. He smiled when he realized that it was now the largest city in the Sol System since _Tarkin's Fist_ had destroyed every Earth city that could have been its rival.

The airway was lightly travelled as he made his way out of the city since most of the populace was still celebrating downtown and around the palace, so it was forty minutes later that his airspeeder climbed southeast into the hilly, Margaritifer Terra Military District. Imperial Marines waved him through at the gates to the spaceport and he parked his craft next to a towering landing pad where a large _Star Galleon_ frigate was in the process of landing.

He exited his vehicle and made his way up the ramp of the landing pad. Near the top he was greeted by the sight of three families, two human and one Zabrak. The males all had stern looks upon their faces while the females and younglings openly wept and were comforted by the fathers. No one in the small groups talked to Yutu when he arrived but a few of the males nodded to him as he stood apart waiting for the deliveries.

A venting of pressurized gases from the craft's landing jets preceded the lowering of the starship's loading ramp, which clanged when it hit the durasteel landing pad.

Then one by one repulserlifts laden with coffins draped in the old banner of the 1st Galactic Empire were led off the vessel by pairs of unarmored Imperial Marines. It was a silent procession. Each of the three families followed an individual casket as they were led into the nearby hanger. Yutu followed alone behind them all.

Outside the hanger several funeral pyres stood at the ready; a uniformed marine standing sentinel over each one.

The caskets, forty-two in all, were lined up in neat rows inside the hanger and placed under an honor guard of marines in their dress uniforms. Yutu walked up and down the rows looking at each of the dead's names and service numbers. Almost every one of them a stormtrooper lost in the first landing waves to hit dirtside on Earth. Yutu knew of the heavy ordinance earth slugthrowers needed to throw at a stormtrooper to crack their armor and tried not to imagine what lay inside each of the caskets.

Eventually he made his way to the grieving families. All of them had given their sons in devotion to the new Martian Empire. Other Imperial citizens would do well to remember their example. These weren't the clones of the last war. These troopers had families and loved ones that cared whether or not they lived or died. A far cry from the troopers of 1st Galactic Empire who were nothing more than bantha fodder to Palpatine.

Yutu offered his condolences and shook their hands. His words felt hollow since he knew that some of his own orders had sent these troopers to their deaths. A casket was carried outside and the first pyre was lit. Its flames soon flickered in the night.

Yutu knew there must be a way to stop the killing of such brave males. The treacherous leadership of Earth must die, and if he personally had to fly dirtside and put a bolt in the back of every so-called 'President's' marked head, well then, so be it.


	27. Dusel 2

**Jinchang, eastern edge of Target West, People's Republic of China, Earth**

Dusel felt as if he were about to drift off to sleep as he sat in the comfortable driver's position of his Imperial Walker and listened to the AT-AT's twin KDY FW62 Compact Fusion Drives idling in the rear of the walker. He studied the crippled walker in front of them to pass the time.

Two hours ago they had been part of the main drive northeast towards the Hauntalhu Expressway and the destroyed city of Nanchang when the command walker of his squadron of sixteen AT-ATs had stepped through a collapsed sewer that had been rigged with a ten thousand kilogram bomb. The resulting explosion had severely damaged the lead walker's footpad and a replacement was on its way up from the rear.

Now the rest of the walkers stood still in an overwatch position as they waited for the Imperial engineers on the ground to finish their repairs on High Colonel's walker; the atrociously named Monkey 1. Some intelligence egghead had discovered that the local abos had twelve animals that represented their calendar years and had dubbed each AT-AT squadron in Target West after one of them. Now Dusel sat high above the repairs of Monkey 1 in what was now call-signed Monkey 9 of the Monkey Force Squadron.

It was a moniker he could have done without thanks to the tales he had heard as a youngling of Kowakian monkey-lizards. Why couldn't he have been assigned to the much more astral sounding Dragon Force or Tiger Force, which were advancing somewhere to the south of his position towards Hangzhou? At least he wasn't part of the poorly named Dog or Pig Force, both of which were performing mop-up operations in Target West several kilometers to the east of him.

To the left side of his viewport the steamy remains of Taihu Lake bubbled and boiled. The huge, fresh water lake had been in the center of the circular orbital bombardment that had cut off Target West from the rest of the People's Republic of China. Even with their turbolasers set at vaporizing blow it hadn't taken the star destroyers in orbit above very long to flash boil the cool waters of the over two thousand square kilometer lake.

Now with the bombardment slowing as the invasion forces closed in on the edges of their beach head, only a few sporadic orbital rounds still landed in the superheated bubbling mud of the lake bed. No enemy soldiers could cross the lake without severe burns and vehicles were quickly bogged down in the mud and stuck with zero cover from Imperial blaster sights, which is why the fighting had moved to the north and southwest. The sweltering lake bed provided a ferociously heated obstacle in the center of the no-beings-land the Star Destroyer turbolasers had created from orbit.

Target West, or Shanghai as the local abos called it, still burned to the east. Engineers had plowed several main supply corridors through the debris field so that reinforcements and equipment could still reach the front. The walker's gunner, Malm, always more informed than Dusel, had told him that Fleet Intelligence was estimating almost fifteen million enemy dead within the city.

Dusel believed him. The smells of millions of roasted and rotting corpses, as well as tens of thousands of obliterated buildings, ruptured sewers, and crushed vehicles drifted upwards from the ruined ground towards the command 'head' of his Walker. Three days ago as they had forced the crossing of the Haungpu River an extremely lucky shot from an enemy hovertank, no wait. . . just a 'tank', had pierced the neck of his AT-AT.

The durasteel sheath that connected the 'head' to the hull of the walker was always considered to be the AT-ATs major point of weakness. The durasteel was only a few centimeters thick at that point to allow for greater flexibility of the 'head' and an errant armor piercing round had made its way through both sides of the neck. Dusel shuddered when he recalled the confusion of the initial impact. His first thought had been that his AT-AT commander, Major Wells, had randomly exploded.

The smoke that filled the command cockpit led to further confusion. They had quickly ascertained that their commander was still amongst the living and that the abo round had passed only a meter behind where he had been standing. His nerves were shaken as he had looked out the hole the round had created and watched the river crossing from their position in the middle of the swirling waters of the Haungpu.

Today the smells below kept seeping inside the walker through the seams of the patch the Walker's two Deck Chiefs had welded on. It would have to do until the walker was ordered to report to an AT-AT Repair Depot for proper maintenance.

"Sounds like we missed a hell of a party in Culter City last night." Malm mused, breaking Dusel's train of thought.

"Um, what?" Dusel thought for a second, "Oh, you mean the coronation gala thing? Sounds like a bunch of high muckity mucks slapping each other on the back."

"Yeah, at the new Martian Palace, but out on the streets everyone was going crazy. I bet the girls were just giving it away and we're stuck here on this dirtball, staring at the slowest engineer crew ever conscripted." Malm complained.

"Those engineers have a job to do. Would you like it if they rushed a repair job on your walker, Corporal?" Major Wells interjected from his command seat to the rear of the two junior NCOs.

"No, Sir. I guess not. I just don't like sitting out of the action like this." Malm responded, trying to put the proper amount of Imperial fighting spirit into his words.

"We'll be back at the front in a couple of hours. The way these Chinese are throwing their troopers at us there will still be plenty for you to blast away. Besides, can you imagine the victory parade they're going to throw for us when we return to Mars? You'll have so many piffers hanging on you you'll wish you had twice as many arms as you already have." Dusel tried to cheer his friend up.

"I'll be wishing for twice as much of one appendage that's for sure." the Alderaanian gunner laughed at his own joke. "Be about a month before we go home, maybe a week or so to go before the Earthlings throw in the towel. Can't think of who would go on after suffering casualties like this."

"Maybe the Noghri or the Wookiees; both of them could go on fighting even with several bolts in them, from what I've heard." Dusel offered. The time-killing conversation turned from one topic to the next over the following hour, ranging from deadliest walker types to which celebrity would win in a fight (Both corporals agreed they'd hate to meet Darth Vader in a dark alley) and always back to girls back on Mars. They had just broken out a pair of MPETs for lunch when a general alert alarm sounded from Malm's HyperWave radio.

Malm activated the console control in front of him and listened to the All Command Alert. "Major, there's a large counter-attack brewing out of the southwest."

"Put it up on the holoimager, Corporal. Any word on enemy numbers?" Their AT-AT commander ordered from his seat. The officer rose and turned to the battlefield imager situated behind Dusel's seat. Blue images showed the units engaged in the fighting to the southwest. Blaster fire poured out of the Imperial positions there, and across the no-beings-land created by the orbital bombardment. On the receiving end of their blasts a moving wave of near-humanity surged forward across the molten glass battlefield.

"Would you look at that." Malm whistled from his chair. Dusel struggled to turn in his chair to take a peek at the battle. "Targeting computers are estimating that force at around a hundred thousand beings, almost all of it straight back infantry troopers."

"That's not a battle, that's a massacre." Dusel exclaimed. "Why would they do that?"

"Look at those units to their rear, looks like some type of field police. I bet those troopers can't retreat even if they wanted to." Malm suggested. Dusel had a horrifying image of the old ISB doing the same to stormtroopers. It wasn't hard to imagine.

"It's working too. Look, they're almost half way across no-beings-land." Major Wells observed.

"All available walker squadrons are ordered to respond and advance to the fighting. The front line stormtrooper units are screaming for more tibanna to be brought up as well." Malm reported as images of TIE/sa bombers dropped their proton bomb loads on the advancing hordes, tearing great holes in the formation that were quickly filled by the press of more onrushing Chinese troopers.

More and more stormtroopers poured plasma blasts across the far side of the no-beings-land as the orbiting Star Destroyers started throwing the weight of their turbolasers into the one-sided slaughter. "I don't think they're going to make it. Good thing we don't have to be part of that." Dusel observed as the front of the attack wavered as impacts blasted away hundreds of foolish Earthers with every shot. He'd never be able to show his face again on peace-loving Chandrila if he helped with such a horrible murder of so many hapless beings.

"Not the proper Imperial spirit, Driver." Major Wells warned from his seat. "We should be supporting our brothers at the frontline."

"Yes, Sir." Dusel automatically answered. The Major was right, he thought. He had believed that all his feelings of mercy and pity had been drummed out of him during basic training on Carida. Service to the Empire and the New Order were all that mattered. Today though, he was unsure if he could be party to such a one-sided massacre.

The morale of the enemy attack broke at that moment and the near-human-wave attack collapsed as the enemy field police could no longer halt their infantry from fleeing the battlefield. The bombardment continued its increased rate in that sector as abos by the thousands tried to make it back to their own lines. _This isn't what I enlisted for_, he thought unable to tear his eyes away from the holoimaged battle. Dusel almost didn't notice another alarm chirp over near Malm's HyperWave radio set.

Malm sat up straighter in his seat as he listened to the new All Command Alert being issued by command. "Fierfek!" Malm exclaimed, before turning back to face his commander. "We've got a kriffing hell of a carbon flush bearing down on us out of the north. TIE/WACs are reporting at least three thousand plus enemy airspeeders and still counting. Picket screen of TIEs up there are already engaging but a lot of them are getting through."

"Of course they would. Command's got everyone down in the south meeting that infantry thrust." the Major growled, Driver turn us to face north, Gunner prime the chin cannons."

Dusel did as he was told, lurching the giant walker to face towards the oncoming attack, while Malm arched the cockpit as high as it could. Dusel knew the AT-ATs made terrible anti-airspeeder platforms. They were designed to destroy enemy vehicles and fortifications; it took an extremely lucky shot to bring down a racing airspeeder. he fought his jeeblies about the onrushing attack aside and focused on his job. These abos sure were a tenicious lot he told himself.

A squadron of stubby AT-AAs rushed ahead of Monkey 1 with lizard-like locomotion, before emplacing themselves on the north side of the Monkey Force position. Dusel was relieved when he saw all the flak pods and concussion missile launchers bristling on the hulls of the squatter anti-airspeeder walkers.

Kilometers to the north the skies erupted as a massive air battle broke out. Blaster fire and missile plumes streaked across the horizon as dozens of smoke pyres marked the burning deaths of dozens of airspeeders. But still the Earth attack drew closer as the abos pressed through the lightly defended northern flank of Target West.

Dusel peered over at Malm's control panel. Already he could tell the AT-AAs were throwing up complex electronic counter-measures to counteract the enemy's missile guidance systems. "This is interesting." Malm quietly observed.

"What's up, Malm?" Dusel asked.

"Report, Corporal." Wells ordered with a more direct approach.

"Sir, targeting computers and subspace radars are claiming that those aren't all PRC fighters out there." Malm stated.

"Well, whose are they then?" Wells sounded irked. They had been told that the Chinese Airforce was the largest one dirtside when they had been briefed, and everyday since they had landed on Earth their fighter cover had swept hundreds of Chengdu J-10b, Shenyang J-14 and J-15s from the skies. Now here was an entirely new air armada charging down on them.

"Sir, Flight Command is warning that there are F-22 fighters from both the State of Nippon and the Republic of Korea. They're also warning that over a thousand of the attacking airspeeders have the flight characteristics of airspeeders from the Russian Federation, mainly Yak 130s, Tupulov 160Ms, and MIG 35s."

"So the Russians have finally arrived? Guess we're a lot closer to them than Target East." Wells mused. Dusel wondered what he meant by that before figuring it was something those above his pay-grade worried about. "Gunner. Airspeeder. Front."

"Identified." Malm stated hungrily. Dusel wondered which of the attacking airspeeders his friend was aiming at.

"Fire!" Wells stated with business like precision.

"On the way!" The chin and ear cannons started blasting away at the attacking formations at the same time the rest of Monkey Force did. "Lazing and blazing." Malm laughed with glee as he swept the cockpit back and forth. Airspeeders fell from the sky, whether from Malm's bolts or the thousands of others that filled the sky.

The AT-AAs ahead of them filled the atmosphere with well-placed concussion missiles that raked the enemy formations from the sky. An IR-guided missile smashed into one of the AT-AAs destroying several of its weapon pods. Several terrified enemy pilots dropped their bomb loads early, which just added to the chaos and grief that Shanghai was already feeling.

Dusel had planted each of the AT-ATs four legs to form a stable blasting platform but then had relatively nothing to do as the attack bore in. He checked and rechecked the leg hydraulic levels and kept the engine drives revved in case he had to move the walker in a hurry. His AT-AT gave a small shudder as an unguided ballistic missile missed it by a few meters to his portside. Nearby Monkey 3 took several missiles to its cockpit and continued to pour blasts into the sky. Still Malm continued to swivel the cockpit back and forth as he raked heavy cannon blasts at the onrushing airspeeders while more cruise missiles and bombs crashed into the wrecked city. The stormtroopers and engineers working on Monkey 1 scrambled for cover as debris from the impacts of the Earthling weapons rained down across the metropolis.

Then everything started to move in slow motion for the young AT-AT driver as a burning Mitsubishi F-3B fighter filled his viewport. Dusel was able to see the hard-point weapon attachments filled with bombs and missiles strung out along the wings and fuselage of the flaming airspeeder. The way the craft was burning he knew it had to be packed with fuel and other explosives as well.

Dusel gulped and took what he thought would be his last breath as sweat ran down his temples and neck. He waited for the orders from the Major to evade the onrushing suicidal pilot but they never came.

A heartbeat later the airspeeder gave a sudden lurch to the left as blaster fire from the ground connected with one of its wings. The sleek craft streaked by his viewport like a burning comet. All Dusel was able to make out in that terrible instant was a round, red meatball shape on its fuselage as it went past.

The airspeeder's pilot was skilled enough to keep his doomed craft in the air for another hundred meters before slamming it into the side of Monkey 1's hull. The resulting explosion was horrific, almost shaking Dusel and Malm from their own seats in Monkey 9 as their cockpit jerked away from the explosion with a massive concussive push. Their AT-AT was filled with a horrendous rattling as shrapnel from the explosion peppered the side of their Walker.

When the initial flash and smoke dispersed Dusel was greeted by the sight of Monkey 1 listing at almost seventy five degrees. He knew from driver training on Carida that an AT-AT couldn't lean much more than eighty degrees without tipping and Monkey 1 was still missing its damaged footpad. Smoke rolled out of every hatch and the shattered viewports on the command Walker as it continued to lean further and further away from Dusel's AT-AT.

With a buckle and crunch one of Monkey 1's legs snapped sending the hull crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust and smoke. A few stormtroopers huddling under cover below sprung for new positions away from the burning wreck.

Major Wells leaned over his seat to get a better view of the burning Walker. "Did you see if anyone got out, Corporal?" the commander asked.

"No, Sir. It just went down. I think all of those troopers on the ground got out of the way though."

"Corporal Malm, call over to Monkey 1 and see if the High Colonel is-" A thundering eruption cut the Major short as the cockpit of Monkey 1 was blown into shrapnel.

"E chu ta!" he gasped in shock. For a long moment no one spoke inside of the cockpit as they watched flames consume their sister Walker.

"Gunner, continue to scan for targets. Patch me through to the squadron net and Monkey 2 right away." Malm moved quickly to carry out the commander's orders. When Major Wells was safely communicating with his counterpart on Monkey 2, Dusel gave Malm a questioning look. His fellow Corporal gave a shrug. What could they do? Five AT-AT crewmen had just been killed right next to them and the horrifying thing was that it could have easily been them.

Malm went through the motions and soon a small blue figure of the Lieutenant Colonel that commanded Monkey 2 appeared from the AT-AT's small holoimager. Major Wells stepped forward and saluted. "Sir, Monkey 1 has been lost, and remaining enemy airspeeders are fleeing north or being hunted down by our air-cover. Your orders?"

Dusel glanced at the battlefield projection and saw that waves of TIEs returning from the fighting in the south were indeed sweeping the skies of the suddenly deadly airspeeders. He wondered how they had been willing to lose so many hundreds of atmospheric snubfighters, and The Force only knew how many thousands of infantry in the attack that drew off so much of the Imperial air cover to the south. They had bombed the length of the northern front and taken down Monkey 1 but the short battle had been mostly one-sided. What other great lengths would these abos go to just to get a kill on an Imperial trooper? And what would he be willing to do if that trooper were him?

"Monkey 9, fall in behind Monkey 5 on the Outer Rim north-south route. Monkey 2 has the lead." Dusel started to rev the drive engines as he looked for Monkey 5, which was starting to move towards the cleared route somewhere to their left. "An AT-AT retriever and an engineer unit is being dispatched from LZ-SPIA to deal with Monkey 1. Monkey Force is being ordered to the northern flank to support the 564th Legion. They're less than a kilometer from the no-beings-land and Chinese troopers are attempting to retreat across it in their sector."

"Excellent, Sir. Monkey 9 is ready and willing to follow out the orders of the new Emperor." Wells saluted. Dusel just rolled his eyes at his commander's eagerness. He wished the Major was joking but the AT-AT commander hailed from Eriadu, and the Eriadu had never developed a sense of humor.

"Monkey 2 out." The Lieutenant Colonel returned the salute before his holoimage disappeared.

"Driver, move out." Wells ordered, not noticing that they were already under way. Though Dusel was far from eager to return to the battle. If he had a choice he would happily turn Moneky 9 around and head back the way they had came. The abos seemed to be willing to go to any extreme to kill him. Would he go to any extreme to survive? He had been trained to believe the Empire always came first but after Monkey 1's death he found his concern for his own life jumping to the front of the line.

The fifteen Walkers of Monkey Force entered the main communication and supply corridor on the western edge of the Imperial advance. Their flanks were protected by the steamy mud flat of Taihu Lake and the conquered ruins of Target West.

The gentle sway of the Walker as she strolled past columns of stormtroopers marching to the front started to put Dusel at ease. He tried to clear his mind of the memories of Monkey 1's violent death. Platoons of AT-STs raced past his slower Walker but Dusel didn't mind. He was in no hurry to get back to the slaughter. Knowing the longer he put it off the longer he stayed alive. Ahead, a curtain of turbolaser rain still fell on the no-beings-land that surrounded Target West. He hoped that Fleet Command would stop blasting before they ordered the army to sortie from the city. In the Imperial Army that was never a guarantee.

A great wall of smoke still marked where the fighting was fiercely raging along the Hauntalhu Expressway. Inside the blackened plumes Dusel could make out the ghostly shapes of the AT-ATs of Hare, Snake, Rat, and Rooster Squadrons spread several kilometers across the northern front as they closed with the no-beings-land half a kilometer away. He wondered how many Chinese abos were using the smoke to mask their escape across the dangerous stretch of land.

As if reading his mind, Malm answered, "FlightOps channel is getting a lot of spotting reports that the PRC army is starting to flee the city across the NBL in our assigned sector."

"Excellent. One good kick and the whole rotten structure will collapse." Wells stated with the closest he ever came to glee in his voice.

The blue holoimage of Monkey 2's commander appeared again. "Attention all commands, Monkey Force is moving into line formation between the walkers of Rooster and Hare Squadrons. Movement to follow to the NBL and hold there for further orders. Monkey 2 out." The holoimage disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

"Driver, bring speed up to forty-five KPH and bring us into line with the rest of the squadron. Then slow us down to assault speed."

"Yes, Sir." Five minutes later the fifteen walkers of Monkey Force were stretched out over two kilometers supporting the 564thStormtrooper Legion as it completed its advance. Dusel crashed his walker through a five-story building that was a raging inferno. Enemy troopers plunged out of the upper story and impacted with the street below. Some of them fell past Dusel's viewport as his passing tore the guts out of the edifice and it collapsed in their wake. Stormtoopers moved through the rubble and dispatched any enemy that had survived.

Through the thinning smoke Dusel could start to make out the molten glass on the no-beings-land that stretched out for a width of about five kilometers before running into the wreckage of the city of Nanchang. Over that glass ran thousands of abos, military and civilian alike, as they fled for the perceived safety ahead. A stubborn rear-guard fought for every remaining street and building to buy time for their comrade's exodus.

Malm turned to the Major. "Sir, Monkey 2 is ordering all even numbered Walkers to engage the refugees in the NBL, all odd number walkers are to continue to eliminate ground targets ahead of us."

"Acknowledge that order, Corporal, and continue to scan for targets." Wells answered.

They reduced a strongpoint at a street intersection to molten slag and had just turned their chin cannons onto a pair of fleeing scout armored vehicles when the lights of the AT-AT's cockpit dimmed. The power drain flickered out the lights and indicators across both Dusel and Marm's control consoles. The odd occurrence lasted less than a second and Dusel was sure if he had blinked he would have missed it.

"Driver, what just kriffing happened?"

"Don't know, Sir. Power drain of some sort. I wasn't even taxing the drive engines." Dusel responded cluelessly as he searched the row of engine monitors on his control panel for the source of the power drain.

"Sir, recon Scout troopers are reporting that the enemy just lit off five EMP devices to cover their retreat. The EMP signatures are equivalent to twenty megaton nuclear devices." Malm reported as he clicked between channels on the hyperspace radio.

"Are you joking, Corporal?"

"No, Sir. Scouts are reporting the rear guard forces are breaking for the NBL, I think they thought an EMP would slow us down long enough for them to get away." Malm suggested.

"If an EM burst were all it took to blow out a motivator or a droid brain we'd have a complete break-down of everything every time someone fired off a proton bomb or a turbolaser during a battle. Everything we have is EM hardened. I can't believe they even made the lights flicker for a second." Wells almost laughed. "Driver take us to the NBL and halt. Gunner, continue to engage targets at will."

"Yes, Sir." The two Corporals echoed.

An EMP weapon? Dusel just shook his head. The abos on this world really were primitive. With the ground ahead covered in their dead and dying bodies, Dusel wondered if he had anything in common with the alien near-humans. Only the stupid and insane resisted the strong, he mused. So why hadn't they surrendered yet?

A minute or two later the AT-ATs of Monkey Force stood along the conquered edge of the NBL. Their turbolasers and heavy cannons raked the retreating Chinese ground forces as they fled through the spattering of turbolaser fire being delivered by Star Destroyers in orbit above. Dusel didn't think many of them made it back to the other side.

Dusel thought of Monkey 1 and wondered if he'd make it back to Mars again before the war was won.


	28. Ashla 2

**Civilian Landing Pad Peth 27, Ison Corridor Commercial Sector, Culter City, Mars**

The Jedi Knight watched the two, short Utai make the final preparations for her starship's launch. Ashla Ti leaned against a railing of the landing pad, occasionally glancing down at families and shoppers several stories below going in and out of a large grocery store. Across the skylane an equally busy home furnishing business competed with a massive electronic outlet firm for the beings' newly minted Imperial Martian Credits. Above the stores and hiding rows of landing pads, were massive holoimaging billboards that filled the evening's dimming sky with bright lights and moving images of hundreds of species and advertisements.

Her two little friends Erw and Raf were busy stenciling the aurabesh symbols of Cresh Cresh Grek along several prominent points on her Corellian YT-2000 stock light freighter the _Agen's Light_. The sight of the sleek looking vessel with its hidden AG-2G tri-laser cannons and a hundred other modifications added by her pack filled her with immense pride. Master Yoda had taught her long ago that a Jedi should avoid attachment but it was hard when standing next to the _Agen's Light_.

If tonight's mission went well enough her pack would be complete once more. After she had rescued the female Gran from the clutches of a Chiewab work farm last month their leader, Tupolek, had her herd fan out across the vast expanse of Culter City. It wasn't long before they heard stories of a large group of male Gran being held in one of the concentration camps being used to harbor the incoming masses of earthling prisoners from the not-so-distant war. If her friends Brakatak and Frip were still alive, then chances were that was where they were being held.

She suddenly felt a presence in The Force, right before two beings casually strolled onto her landing pad. The two males, a Brentaali and a near-human Arkanian, wore the garb of customs agents but the slick-looking WESTAR-34 blaster pistols they wore as sidearms suggested they were here for more than a bribe. Ashla got a chill when she noticed the BoSS patches on their uniforms. BoSS hierophants were a law unto themselves in the Home Galaxy.

"Starship registration and transponder codes, please." The Arkanian asked with all the smugness his species was known for. The Brentaali held out an expectant hand.

"Just a moment," Ashla told them. She turned to her crew. "Raf can you get the NavComp datapad out of the cockpit?" she asked the little Utai, who waved and ran aboard the ship.

Ashla stood in silent contemplation of the two males who were giving her vessel a once over. She didn't want them to have any cause for a much more thorough search. Her lightsaber was tucked behind her into her belt and she wore a blue cloak to conceal it. Knowing it was there put her at ease.

"Interesting markings your ground crew stenciled there." The Brentaali nodded his head towards the painted decals Erw was still working on.

"Um, yes. We have a potential buyer from the Culter City Guard coming to look at her later." Ashla lied.

"Interesting." the Arkanian shrugged.

"How come the Bureau of Ships and Services is suddenly interested in transponder codes once more?" She tried to make small talk in an effort to figure out the two BoSS hierophants purpose here. If they knew the _Agen's Light _was stolen already they would have been accompanied by a squad from the Culter City Guard.

"We never stopped but we've been on hiatus for the past two standard years due to lack of any exploration out of this system. The public launch of the _StarGate _charting vessel this morning has inspired the new Martian Space Ministry. . ." The Brentaali started to explain.

"Like the old Imperial Space Ministry?"

"Precisely. It's just a name change on the door of the building. Anyway, the _StarGate _is presumed to reach the Kuiper Belt sometime tonight and start charting navigable space lanes out of the system. Civilian mining operations are being chartered by the Emperor, which will authorize civilian travel out into the Belt starting sometime next month. A decree has been issued that all vessels need to update their astrogation data every time they make port. This insures that the Ministry and pilots such as yourself stay up on the most current star charts, especially when civilian HyperSpace travel becomes available again in a few years."

The Arkanian interrupted his colleague, "We couldn't help but notice that your vessel hadn't automatically done so when it landed. That is a Class Five ImPeRef offense."

The Togruta felt her skin flush and hoped it wasn't noticeable given her naturally red skin. This was a shake down. If these males wanted a bribe now, what would happen when they read over the vessel's registry datachart? She couldn't even call the authorities on the two and turn them in for bribery. BoSS hadn't feared the old Galactic Empire, so why would they take any grief from the new Martian one. The worst part was that after they saw the datachart the authorities would be called and they wouldn't be on Ashla's side either.

Raf strolled slowly down the loading ramp. The incriminating datapad in his leathery hands. He handed it to Ashla and then went to stand by his pal Erw to watch what would transpire.

She handed it over to the Brentaali who quickly accessed it and went through its data files. When he came across the section on ownership registry his eyes grew wide. He looked up at her menacingly. "What is your name citizen?"

"Ashla Ti." She responded automatically, temporarily forgetting her alias of Shakra Tiber. The Brentaali punched in her name on his own datapad.

"Call the Guard," He told his partner. "Ashla Ti, or whoever you are, you are placed under arrest for spacecraft theft and possession of a false identity."

Ashla tensed for a fight. She didn't want the Culter City Guard hunting her down but it was rapidly beginning to look as if she didn't have a choice. Her montrals echolocated across the landing pad, letting her know of the entrance of three more beings to their right side. One of them was dressed in the red plastoid armor of the Culter City Guard.

The electronically amplified voice boomed from the helmet of the guardsman. "What is going on here?"

Ashla and the two BoSS hierophants turned to the newcomers. At their lead was a tall, imposing stormtrooper in the crimson armor of the CCG, followed by two females in the uniforms of Imperial Army Prison Guards. The prison guards' long braids swished from side to side as they advanced on Ashla and the two BoSS agents. The two prison guards took up flanking positions on the two BoSS males as the guardsman stood next to Ashla.

"That was kriffing fast. Who says there's never a guardsman around when you need him." The Arkanian laughed. "We were in the process of arresting this one for starship theft. A Class One ImPeRes and subject to life imprisonment under the laws of the Empire."

"The Old Empire," The guardsman interjected, "Show us the vessel's registry."

"What for? Just take her into custody." The Brentaali demanded.

Ashla saw her opportunity. With the slightest hand gesture she reached out and felt the power of The Force. "You want to show them the datapads."

"Actually, you know what? I want to show you our kriffing datapads." The Brentaali handed over both the _Agen's Light's _datachart and his own personal one that showed that Ashla was an unregistered citizen. The guardsman handed both datapads to the female prison guard next to the Arkanian. Ashla used her focus on The Force to keep both BoSS male's attention on her.

The guard's fingers were a blur as she accessed one file after another on both of the datapads. After a few tense moments she handed both of the datapads back to the Brentaali, "I'm not seeing any evidence of a crime."

"What?" Both of the BoSS males looked to their data files. "This vessel was listed as stolen from the transport vessel the _Chain _a year and a half ago."

"Says on the ships registry and the Bureau of Ships and Services registry that this vessel belonged to a Togruta named Shakra Tiber on Shili who gave it to her cousin Ashla Ti here shortly before the 'big jump'. Your other file states that one Ashla Ti was freed from the _Chain _prisoner population right before _Tarkin's Fist _made planetfall here on Mars."

Keatly was amazing, Ashla thought. Her slicing skills had gotten them out of one jam after another since they had landed on Mars.

"Is everything on the up and up?" The guardsman asked the group.

The BoSS hierophants looked as if they still couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Ashla gave them another push with The Force. "Everything here is on the up and up."

"Everything here is on the up and up." They parroted Ashla.

"Continue your patrol." Ashla said softly, keeping her focus on the living Force.

"Let's move out." The Brentaali agent motioned to his partner and both males turned and exited the landing pad. Ashla spent a tense moment watching them walk further and further away before disappearing onto another distant landing pad, presumably to harass another hapless spacer.

Ashlei and Keatly, her two Firrerreo, near-human pack-mates, giggled as the BoSS males disappeared. The two of them wore the uniforms of camp guards covered with blaster resistant armor designed for hand-to-hand fighting and close combat. Their two-tone hair hung in long braids past their waists.

"With those powers of yours I'm surprised you don't have a mate wrapped around your little finger." Ashlei laughed.

"I couldn't ever use my powers like that. It'd go against the Jedi Code." Ashla gasped. Deep down she was just relieved that it had worked. She had only received fundamental training on the Mind Trick ability during her time as a youngling at the Jedi Temple and she hadn't practiced the technique very often during her time as a slave. "Thank you for the save though. I don't know what I would have done if you three hadn't showed up when you did."

"Our pleasure." Rana, their Duro pilot, grinned as she removed her red stormtrooper helmet. "And it looks like it did some good as well, isn't that right, Keatly?"

"Oh, Yes. The _Agen's Light's_ registry is completely yours now, at least as far as BoSS is concerned. And better yet, you exist. I mean, Ashla Ti exists. No more Shakra Tiber." Keatly put a reassuring hand on the Togruta's shoulder. The two pack-mates shared a friendly smile. Ashla wondered if her true name was still on some Imperial list of fugitive Jedi somewhere.

"Well, who's up for going and getting our boys?" Ashlei asked. Erw and Raf jumped up and clapped at the suggestion. Ashla suspected the two little Utais were tired of living with just females.

"Everyone remember the plan for tonight, right?" Rana's tone suddenly became deathly serious. "Infiltration and reconnaissance only. We'll extract as soon as we know what the situation is like on the ground in that place."

"Right!" Ashla agreed. "You all ready?"

"We're set. You're the one with the tough job, Miss Jedi Knight." Rana reminded her as she led the pack up the loading ramp of the Corellian light-frigate.

Rana took her position at the controls of the vessel and started her up. The little Utais took their place on the starship's blaster cannons as the two Firrereos helped Ashla change into her garb for the mission. A black utility suit with the aurabesh lettering of the Culter City Guard on the back. Ashla handed her lightsaber to Ashlei who hid the weapon in her own uniform. Keatly frowned as she slapped a pair of stun cuffs on Ashla's wrists.

The red metropolis of Culter City flashed by them as they entered the evening traffic on the busy skyways. Soon they were racing over the military districts that ringed the city. Ashla noticed that large sections of AT-AT hangers and troop barracks appeared to be empty. The troopers of the new Empire had invaded nearby Earth for more slaves to feed the Imperial war machine. She had been a slave in the Old Empire and shuddered when she thought of what surely awaited the earthlings when they arrived here on Mars.

The _Agen's Light_ followed the winding course of the Yos River southeast up into the wind-swept wastes of the Xanthe Terra highlands. They flew over a one-hundred kilometer wide landslide left over from last season's massive dust storm. Honeycombed fields of various grains marked hundreds of agricombines along the edges on the landslide area. Ashla tried not to think of who was working those farm fields below out of concern for her missing pack mates. Just as they reached the Chryse Planitia delta, Rana started her descent of the starship.

"ConCamp 1138, this is Prisoner Transport _Agen's Light_ requesting landing permission." Rana spoke into the vessel's comm.

A few seconds later an answer rang out across the cockpit. "Roger, roger _Agen's Light_. Permission granted. Off-loading operations are currently underway so avoid the main landing dock. Come around to landing pad Besh 3." A bored FlightOps controller at the distant camp ordered. A beacon on their holomap projector indicated the location of their assigned landing pad.

On the horizon a massive shape started to form. A single dirt road below led to rows and rows of teeth-wire, containment-field fences, and duracrete walls topped with scores of E-WEB equipped guard towers. Beyond those defenses were situated neat rows of thousands of large, blood-red barrack buildings constructed of pourstone like a miniature, sinister replica of the thriving metropolis they had just left behind. This place had the sense of death to it; Ashla could feel it in The Force.

The _Agen's Light_ came to rest alongside a _CR25_ dropship with old Imperial naval markings. Through the dust kicked up by her landing jets Ashla glimpsed a ground crewbeing waving red landing cones to aid their landing. A pair of figures behind him moved towards the landing ramp as the Corellian light freighter came to a rest.

"Ready?" Keatly asked as Rana powered down the starship's systems and replaced her red stormtrooper helmet on her head. Ashlei and Keatly took up flanking positions on the Togruta, while Erw and Raf lowered the ramp before disappearing back into the hull somewhere.

"As I'll ever be." Ashla said as she took a deep breath and braced herself for the chilly summer air outside and the harsh glare of the Martian sun.

Rana led the way down the ramp and the other three moved in formation behind her. In front of them a sober-looking pair of guards dressed in chest, elbow and knee armor over their uniforms; a human with the neck tattoos of a Telerath and a Chistori, awaited their transfer.

"Prisoner transfer from Culter City. ImPeRe class 2. Landspeeder theft. Six months hard labor." Rana reported to the two guards. A couple of fresh bruises and cuts on their skin showed they had seen recent action within the prison.

The Chistori looked Ashla over. "Got yourself a deuce, huh? Lot harder to ignore than the pair of Hutt Trips I picked up a decade ago on Nar Shaddaa."

"I guess." Ashla shrugged. She had heard spacers talk of the difference between Hutt laws and the Empire's during her years on the run.

"Six months ain't too bad," The human guard piped in, "You're a Togruta right?" He looked over the prisoner transfer flimsiplast that Keatly handed him. His eyes glanced over the datawork, hardly looking at her at all. "Poisonous right? With the fangs and all." Ashla rolled her eyes at the common misconception of her species. "Pack workers though. You ever been in charge of a pack?"

"Um, no. Did some dockyard work around Kuat and the New Territories back in the Old Empire." She didn't mention that that work had included robbing banks and hiding from the Jedi hunters of the Galactic Empire.

"That's fine; you're used to working with a crew. We're going to put you in an OverSeer position. You'll be in charge of a hundred slave laborers from Earth. They've all got work quotas. They work, you eat. Simple." The human guard looked up at her to make sure she understood.

"Got it?" the Chistori asked. He started to pat down her clothes in a search for hidden weapons. Ashla controlled the irritation she felt at the intimacy of the search.

"Got it." Ashla responded as she felt Ashlei slip her lightsaber under her Togruta sash just as the guard finished his search. Neither of the camp guards noticed a thing.

"Good. We're going to put you in the main OverSeers' barracks. You'll report to the main OverSeer, a Gran by the name of Frek Frek," Ashla's heart jumped at the name but her face gave nothing away as the guard continued. "He'll fill you in on what's expected of you."

"What's going on over there?" Rana asked, motioning towards the CR25 on the landing pad next to theirs. A few dozen prisoners were being unloaded from the troop carrier under heavy guard by teams of Army Field Police and Naval Troopers. The prisoners were a mix of species and had the appearance of seasoned killers and other assorted scum.

"Oh, them." The human shrugged, "The survivors of the ___Abandoned Hope_. Capitol offense prisoners, all of them. They're being transferred here for 'special duties'."

"Special duties." The Chistori spit on the ground. "That's the commandant's polite way of saying executions. We're doing several hundred a day. Trying to knock a lot of the fight of the more aggressive Earthers. It's rough on the normal guards."

Ashla could feel in The Force that the Chistori felt no malice towards the prisoners in the camp. He was just a being doing his job, a job he had rapidly come to despise. She wondered just how dark a place this camp really was and if she would be able to find any of the light side anywhere within its gates.

"I thought there were thousands of prisoners on the _Abandoned Hope_?" Keatly asked while she received the signed prisoner transfer back from the guard.

"There were. The stormtroopers and the Navy have whittled them down a lot. These are the only ones left." The human looked at Ashla, "Watch yourself in there. Those are some pretty tough buggers." He turned to Rana and the girls. "We'll take her from here."

Rana just nodded. The three of them turned and stoically reboarded the _Agen's Light_. Ashla could feel the Firrerreos trying their best not to look back over their shoulders as she entered captivity.

The two guards took up flanking positions and led her into the camp. Floodlights burst into life to light the sprawling compound as the local star started to dip below the horizon. As they made their way into the rows of barracks the guards tightened their grips on their stun batons and their eyes darted back in forth in an attempt to spot onrushing danger. Ashla was pleased that they hardly paid her any attention during their trek across the camp.

Guards in heavily fortified towers watched their progress from junctions and roadblock security posts. Several blaster shots rang out from somewhere deep in the camp. "Prisoners are confined to their barracks after sundown." the human guard explained. "Some of them have trouble following the rules."

Ashla sensed thousands of eyes on her as she passed the flimsy, pourstone barracks. Near-humans stood in almost every doorway watching the trio pass. They were all dressed the same, in red utility suits that showed the wear and tear of clothes undergoing the rigors of heavy labor. On many of the near-humans the jumpsuits had already begun to hang loose on their frames. Ashla was startled by what she saw; hadn't the invasion only begun a little over two standard weeks ago?

A nauseous feeling started rising in her core. She wondered what was causing it. The stench of thousands of unwashed and bloodied beings was everywhere but she had grown used to that scent during her years as a slave. Her montrals' natural echolocation couldn't locate a source either.

The Force! Her Jedi senses practically screamed all at once. She stopped dead in her tracks. The two guards slowed and waved her forward again with looks of concern. Her feet moved forward out of pure reflex.

The Force existed throughout the universe in all living things in four divergent but complimentary aspects: the light, dark, unifying and living sides of The Force. She had immersed herself in the light side her entire life but had had brushes with the other three aspects and knew their touch. This was something completely different. The Force was all around her but some mysterious strangulation was being placed upon it, and by default, upon her. Something was killing The Force.

Her legs gave out and she barely had the strength to block her fall with her hands. The two guards drew their stun batons and grabbed her with their free hands under her shoulders. "Come on, Girlie! This ain't no kriffing place to stop after dark." The human guard ordered.

Her mind screamed. She barely felt her legs moving again while the guards pushed her forward. Her head swiveled from one barrack to the next. The earthlings in the doorway stared at her in disbelief and anger. She returned their stares with genuine fear in her own gaze. Each of the near-humans was an empty, black hole in The Force.

Her strength slowly waned as the waves of nausea washed over her senses. She fought the urge to vomit. Near-human prisoners carrying huge vats of soup under the watchful eyes of more guards passed the trio traveling in the other direction. Their expressions showed glee at her obvious distress. "Thank God, they're just as hard on their own." one of them stated. A guard hit him with a force pike, causing the male to drop his vat and spill its contents out on the red soil. Ashla was pushed forward too quickly to see what came next for the hapless prisoner.

She was too distracted by her own distress to have been much help anyways. The guards eventually came to another heavily fortified gate. Her mind barely registered the pair of AT-PTs that flanked the well-protected gate. The two guards spoke to whoever was in charge of the barrier and with a loud, metallic clang the durasteel gate swung outwards and allowed them to pass.

The area they came into was brightly lit by floodlights as well but Ashla could feel the waves of nausea subside as the gate sealed behind them. Her echolocation told her of other beings throughout the new section of barracks they had entered. Her eyes opened and she saw dozens of yellow-suited prisoners walking between barracks or watching her from the doorways of their billets.

She pushed away a final urge to vomit as the last of the strangulated Force left her. Her weakened knees threatened to buckle underneath her. The light side let her know that two beings had approached and were standing before them. The guards halted and Ashla stopped as well.

Ashla's strength was about to completely fail, She could barely make out the conversation between the two parties. "Take her, we shall. Our barracks she is staying." an Ishi Tib voice full of hoots and whistles carried through the air.

The guards pushed her forward and Ashla felt herself being picked up by strong, beefy arms. The being turned and carried her inside a nearby barrack. She opened her eyes and saw three eyes as well as the biggest grin she had ever seen smiling down at her.

"Brakatak..." She smiled as she passed out.


	29. Act 3 Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite!

Air Force One, 30,000 ft over Western Ohio, NAU, Earth

President Harris felt an unexpected lurch forward, indicating that his airplane was starting to descend. He turned away from the strategy conference he was listening to and looked out of a nearby window to see if he could tell what was going on. It seemed way too soon for them to be coming in for a landing.

The night sky was full of stars and thankfully empty of alien 'Star Destroyers' for the moment. Not that they hadn't already left their mark on this area of his country. To the north a bright fire along the edges of Lake Erie marked the new graveyard of Toledo, while another fiery conflagration to the south declared the death of the once proud city of Columbus, Ohio.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think of how many of his fellow citizens had failed to evacuate the cities and had perished in their homes when the aliens had unleashed their merciless attack. He couldn't mourn them now, hopefully, there would be time for that in the future. His job now was to help those who had escaped.

"Most of the essential Army and Marine units have been pulled out of the city proper and all reinforcement has been halted to the Los Angeles. . ." The Army Chief of Staff continued his briefing, pointing at a large map of the battle raging on the west coast.

"Mr. President, we have to put down for an emergency landing." A Secret Service agent shouted as he burst through the door. Several of his cabinet members and military generals who were also in the cabin started to object.

"What's going on, Jose?" the President asked.

"Sir, we just got flash traffic from Strategic Air Command."

The Air Force Chief of Staff stood up from the conference table. "What are they saying?"

"Fifteen large aircraft have been shot down in the past forty-five minutes, including a pair of C-5 Galaxies over the Gulf of Mexico ten minutes ago. It seems the Imperials are diving on them from orbit and then bugging out before any of our fighter cover can respond. From what the SAC can determine from signal intercepts, the Imperials are doing this to aircraft in Europe and South America as well." The agent reported.

"Good God," said the Air Force General, ", if I had to guess they're not only trying to cripple our airlift capabilities but they're also attempting to hunt you down."

The National Security Advisor piped in. "Sir, we have some evidence that the aliens have breached the internet. If that is the case then they damn well know about Air Force One."

It made sense. Even though his transport boasted a pair of F-35 Lightnings as escorts there wasn't much to stop a squadron of alien 'H' fighters diving on them from the safety of orbit. It seemed a dirty move but he knew taking him out would go a long way towards winning the war for the Imperials.

"Where are the pilots taking us? Indianapolis?" The President guessed.

"No, Sir. Indianapolis was largely destroyed last week during the opening bombardment. We're putting down at a small regional airport outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana. Members of the Indiana National Guard are en route to meet us there for security." The agent said.

Harris winced when he heard about the fate of Indianapolis. He felt he should have known this but the aliens had destroyed so many cities in their opening attack that it was near impossible for him to keep track of them all. He hoped that the effect had only momentarily crippled the NAU and not completely torn its heart out.

"Very well. Get us on the ground as quickly as possible and then get everyone the hell away from this plane before the Imperial scouts find it." The President ordered as his ears popped from the plane's descent.

"Yes, Sir." The agent left the conference room.

"Well this is a disturbing development." The NSA said. "We'll have to organize some sort of motorcade to get you out west, Sir. That is if you still want to take command that close to the warzone?"

"I do. See to it. If we get the chance I'd like to see that refugee camp outside of Chicago that FEMA has set up." Harris said.

"Could be dangerous, Sir. The government is taking a lot of flak in what still passes for a media in the Union. There are a lot of angry people who have lost their homes and love ones. Most of them will probably make their way to one camp or another." The Director of the National Security Agency said. "I can imagine that some of them want to lay the blame for this war squarely on your doorstep. A lot of them will likely be armed as well."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." He faced the Director of the Secret Service. "Your agents will be able to handle anything that comes along right, Will?"

"Anything human. There's no telling what the aliens will throw at us along the way." Will said.

"We'll shanghai those National Guard troops for extra security then. As for the people in the camps I think it would do well to show them that we're still in this fight. The aliens may have delivered us a nasty punch to the guts right at the bell but the North American Union is still very much in this fight. It's high time everyone started doing their part to help win this war."

The fasten seatbelt signs chimed as they flashed on but they were ignored. "Gentlemen, grab everything you need. We are going to strip this aircraft of everything vital to keeping our Republic a going concern. Encryption and communication gear along with computers have the highest priority. Food and clothes we can find on the road. We must think of North America first and our own comfort second."

There were nods of agreement around the table. Most of the staff got up to gather their belongings. The President left the cabin. The plane was a flurry of activity as staff and servicemen packed their gear. Outside the windows the darkened fields of eastern Indiana got closer and closer.

The President walked towards the Flight Deck. An Air Force crewman had opened up the cargo deck and several airmen were busy handing up bags of equipment to pile near the doors for a quick evacuation after the landing. Harris hoped they prioritized evacuating personnel before unloading any equipment.

At the rear of the Flight Deck several airmen remained at their stations monitoring scattered, garbled messages from around the Union. The Imperials were damn good at electronic warfare and it required constant monitoring for the technicians to receive even the smallest of messages. A few airmen were busy dismantling some of the commo gear for transport.

The President stepped into the control suite. The pilot was a female Air Force Colonel with twenty years of experience under her belt. Three more co-pilots sat at their stations in the compartment. Jose, the Secret Service agent who had made the earlier emergency announcement, left the compartment to make room for the President. Ahead of them loomed the blacked-out shape of what Harris hoped was a runway.

"No lights? Will this be a problem, Colonel?" He asked.

"No, Sir. We've practiced this a thousand times. Fort Wayne isn't turning on their lights because the power grid is down over most of central part of the country." Harris didn't know if that made him feel any better. At least the flight crew seemed confident that they could get him on the ground.

"What are you going to do once we land?" He asked. The floor beneath his feet vibrated as the landing gear lowered into place.

"Sir, we're giving you twenty minutes to unload this plane and get as far away from it as possible. After that we're taking it up again. Once we've reached cruising altitude we've got orders to aim it at Canada, put on the autopilot, and bail out, probably somewhere over Michigan." one of the co-pilots answered as the Colonel concentrated on her landing.

"Good luck to all of you. God will be with you on your mission, I have no doubt." Harris replied.

"Thank you, Sir." a co-pilot said as the wheels of Air Force One touched down on the darkened Indiana tarmac.

The plane was only stationary for a moment before the doors were thrown open. Several Secret Service agents grabbed Harris and rushed him towards the nearest exit. At the doorway he saw that they hadn't waited for a ramp, but instead had deployed the plane's inflatable emergency slides. Harris crossed his arms across his chest and jumped into the night.

At the foot of the slide a school bus driven by a young National Guardsman was already waiting. The Secret Service was hurriedly loading people and equipment aboard. A small sedan pulled up and several agents pushed Harris inside. Several of them crammed in as well until they were practically sitting on top of him. The car sped away into the night.

**North California Street and 210 Interstate, Mt Vernon, Upper California, Earth.**

PFC Justin Mallory spit into the dirt that covered the floor of their trench's firebay. The spit was black and his throat was hoarse. He wondered how much oily smoke and concrete dust he had breathed in over the past week and if he would live long enough to see the repercussions.

It had been some hours since the sun had set on what he had been told was his seventh day of heavy fighting in the ruins of Los Angeles. Hell, it seemed as if the fight had started a lifetime ago. He couldn't believe he'd only been fighting for a week. The harder truth to swallow was that he had lived through it all so far. Though that all seemed like it was about to change.

He wasn't even in Los Angeles proper anymore. The defending forces, both military and the civilian resistance fighters, had steadily been pushed back into Riverside County. Now only a few blocks separated them from the punishing laser barrage still being unleashed by the ETs' orbiting starships. The embattled city was now separated from the gathering army by a five mile stretch of molten rock and dirt that the barrage had created.

From the 215 Interstate and pushing well into the corpse of San Bernardino, nothing survived. Beyond that lay miles of entrenchments being dug by the arriving North American Army in hopes of containing the aliens to their beach head in the City of Angels.

A few days ago those units would have been pushed through the bombardment to join the defenders of the city. Now all 'essential' personnel had been yanked from the city, and the remainder had been ordered to dig in and hold every inch of the metropolis with their blood, sweat, and tears.

His stomach rumbled as he tried to remember the last time he had seen a field kitchen or a supply truck. His last meal had been a mushy, defrosted burrito that he and Sergeant Cortez had looted from the burnt out wreckage of a flattened 7-11. Supplies and ammo were in short supply, and Mallory had lost count of how many corpses he had checked for any type of ammo. Everything was being stopped and reserved on the far side of the no-mans-land created by the alien spaceships.

His current bunker was a trench cut out of the local sewer system and run under the wreckage of what he assumed used to be homes. They had learned the hard way that if they stayed above ground the ETs had no trouble picking them up with their excellent thermal sights. For that reason they let the wreckage above them smolder and smoke to further confound the enemy snipers who could pick them off from miles away.

Thousands of civilians, mobilized by military police units and only in possession of the clothes on their backs, had fallen back with the army to the eastern regions of the invasion zone. There they dug tremendous trenches and anti-walker ditches that ran like scars across the landscape. The fortifications ran back into the city itself where steel, sandbag, and earthwork barricades had been raised, just to be overrun by the unstoppable surge of the alien advance.

The debate over what the ETs were had been settled long ago by the hundreds of surviving veterans that crowded the trench system Mallory was now a part of. Almost nobody claimed they were robots or cyborgs anymore.

Mallory, as well as most, had seen them get shot and go down. He had seen their brave teams of medics who risked their own lives to retrieve alien soldiers caught in the cross-fire of the American .50 cals, the one weapon they seemed to respect. He had witnessed enemy soldiers check their fire on the American medics in several places and had been amazed when he saw enemy soldiers hold their fire when women and children refugees fled in front of them. It surprised him but it didn't stop him from hating them any less because he knew full well that they still had a lot of blood on their hands.

On and on they came, reducing the American defenders to fight thousands of small unit actions. The ETs fought like veterans. Evidently they were no starngers to warfare like this. The white camouflaged enemy had even striped their armor with streaks of gray, black, and tan paint that let them blend in perfectly with the ruins of the concrete jungle in which they fought. Mallory wondered where in the galaxy they had honed their skills. Someplace he would surely never see, he conceded.

The Imperials pushed forward until they met resistance. Then they would go to ground in an instant and then they would usually bring in one of their monstrous camel-walkers or their screeching 'H' fighters and bombers to reduce your position. And if you didn't move quickly enough the white clad aliens and their bipedal walkers were already on your flanks or worse, your rear. Ten army divisions had been sent into LA. And ten army divisions weren't coming out again.

For now, the ETs seemed to be settling in for the night. He didn't want to risk popping his head out to take a peek but he could hear the sounds of them digging positions about a block away. They didn't bother to set their entrenchments on fire like the Americans did. Someone had told him that he had heard that the enemy soldiers were wearing some type of body glove under their armor that cooled them down and hid them from the American thermal sights.

He'd seen that they wore something black under their armor when they moved, especially around their joints, but he only caught quick glimpses of them as they advanced. Standing your ground and lining up what had to be a one in million shot on a moving and firing enemy sounded like a great way to wind up dead. It didn't help that their blasters cut through whatever cover he usually found himself huddled behind.

Between the two lines lay gray, gloomy, desolate territory. Every building had been smashed and leveled, and trees and telephone poles ripped apart. Fragments of wrecked machinery were seen everywhere. There was a piece of an old F-22 Raptor hurled into the ocher-colored earth. There was a slagged Stryker reconnaissance vehicle next to the burnt hulks of a '25 Toyota Corolla and a '19 Ford F150, cases of mortar shells, tattered uniforms, rifle butts...

The thought of their weapons made him unstrap the captured enemy blaster on his thigh. Both he and Sergeant Cortez had figured out how to field strip the gun. The thing was light years beyond anything either of them had ever seen. Other soldiers who saw he carried it had called it a 'phaser' after the guns they used on that old sci-fi television show.

Now he flipped the weapon over again and found the small indicator just underneath its powerful scope. He had deduced it was its ammo counter after Cortez had fired off a few ineffectual rounds at a distant camel-walker. The markings on it showed the 'phaser' was about half full with laser bullets. He extended the stock out and tucked the weapon under his firing arm to get a better feeling of it. A few eyes in the darkened tunnel watched him play with the alien technology.

"Going to get me one of the bastards with this thing." he whispered. A few nearby soldiers just nodded or shrugged. They were tired and all of those who had bragged about what they were going to do to the aliens were already dead.

A few of the people in the trench system around him wore regular clothing. They were civilians and gang members who fought alongside the regular soldiers. Mallory had witnessed groups of them being loaded up with weapons and ammo and left behind in dozens of neighborhoods as the army had fallen back. The ones who lived through the alien advance would no doubt make themselves as big a nuisance as they could for the invaders. He wished them luck on what he considered a near suicidal mission.

A series of pounding thuds followed by an explosion rocked a pile of rubble down the street. A Corporal from the 10th Mountain Division placed his M6A4-SRT over the lip of the emplacement and shoved it through some of the overhead rubble. His rifle's mounted video camera fed images to his HSS on his helmet.

"Some ET scouts. Looks like they're ripping up floorboards and dropping satchel charges or their souped-up grenades on some of our people who got left behind out there." The Corporal observed.

Mallory shrugged. There wasn't anything he could do about it. Those poor suckers should have fallen back to this line with the rest of us, he thought. "Can you get a decent shot on any of them? If not someone outta drop a few mortar rounds on them."

"If you can find a mortar crew. I haven't seen one in a few hours." the junior NCO said. Mallory found this information disturbing. The small, crew-served weapons had become their main artillery support after the alien counter-battery systems had reduced the American heavy weapons one by one. Mallory had heard rumors that high command had startled squirreling away the big guns outside the blast zone to contain any alien breakouts.

"There's a couple of 'Ma Deuces' down the trench. Maybe they can do something." Mallory suggested.

"Nah, they would have opened up by now. No sense in giving away your position for a few poor saps who got left behind." The corporal whispered back before turning around and resuming his position along the darkened wall of the trench. Mallory wondered if his fellow soldier echoed high command's sentiments about the troops that got left behind in Los Angeles.

Suddenly, vibrations from about a klick south rattled his position as one of those terrifying camel-walkers moved into the line. A great tearing noise, followed by what sounded like gravel on a tin roof, rang out as dozens of machine guns in that distant section of the line opened up on the beast. He listened as the alien machine continued its leisurely movement and opened up with its twin chin cannons. Their whining boom echoed across the battlefield, for a moment and then fell silent again. Whether that came from lack of ammunition, the gunners playing possum, or the machine guns simply being wiped out, Mallory was sure he'd never know.

Other than minor interruptions like that one, his section of the line was the quietest it had been in days. The ETs were focused on securing their northern and southern flanks as they secured their beach head. All that remained was this small stretch along the eastern border before the aliens ran into their own blast zone. He had no idea what lay in wait for the aliens beyond that, but he hoped it would be worth all the lives that had been lost buying time for it to be built up.

A splash in the soggy mud warned of someone's approach. Mallory hardly looked up from the mud at his feet, until he noted four soldiers crouched in front of him. Someone slapped him across the top of his helmet. "Mal, you sleeping man?" Sergeant Cortez's Baja Californian voice cut through the low light of the trench.

"No, Sarge. I'm tactical."

"Tactical, my ass. You should have been sleeping. No telling when you're gonna see any more of that again." There were a few chuckles of agreement from the soldiers escorting his NCO. Their small squad of Rangers had been whittled away in the first two days of the alien's landing and the NCO was the only person Mallory knew personally who was still alive. They had saved each other's lives dozens of times as they fell back with the retreating army.

Mallory had lost count of how many units they had been attached to during that time. Not only did their Ranger tabs get them some respect in whatever foxhole, pillbox, or slit trench they found themselves in. The fact that Cortez had taken out one of the alien's bipedal walkers and didn't hesitate to tell others about Mallory's knife fight with an ET that had bagged him his 'phaser' was usually enough to get them chow and ammo most places.

"They'll come in the morning, finish us off then." Cortez stated flatly, Mallory just nodded his head in agreement.

"Why won't they come in the night? From what I've heard they've got night-vision gear just as good as ours." One of the soldiers whispered in the dark. The question marked him as a new arrival to the battle zone.

"Oh, they do. Their snipers and scouts especially. Mallory can tell you that one on one it can almost be a fair fight with these fellows." Cortex said.

Mallory's mind flashed back to his fight to the death with one of the ETs amongst the corpses of a dozen of LA's defenders a few days ago.

Cortez continued, "The ETs don't like to fight fair for shit. Most of their armor is in the north and south right now but they'll be bringing it up in the dark and crush us with fucking, overwhelming force in the morning, like. It's the biggest play in their playbook."

"Wait till you hear a bunch of their 'H' bombers overhead. That's when they'll kick off." Mallory added. He wondered who these noobs were with his sergeant.

"What'll happen then," one of the new soldiers asked.

"Then the whole world blows up and we all die here in place so that the boys on the other side of the slag-zone out there get another day. Comprende?" Cortez explained.

"Yeah, we get it. All we need is one night." The mystery soldier responded.

"Mallory, these fellas are from Delta Force. They said if we help them out they might be able to get us out of the city." explained Cortez.

Mallory's ears perked up and he sat up straighter at that news. He had expected this to be his last night on Earth, one way or another. He couldn't help but get excited at the prospect of a new hope.

Mallory took his first hard look at the three special forces soldiers around him. Each of the three warriors was bulked up due to wearing full-body BLEEX exoskeletons. Their faces were covered in helmets that wrapped around their whole face and eyes; giving them the appearance of high-tech ninjas. They each carried a MR-C rifle as well as a Lethality Central MetalStorm sidearm. One of them had an experimental ElectroDart across his back, capable of delivering a shock of over 50,000 volts. These boys had the look of hunters to them.

"How long have you been in this position? Mallory was it?" One of the Operators asked.

"About an hour and a half, bout as long as anyone else here. Sarge said to stay put while he went and tried to scrounge up some grub."

"Good, so you got a pretty good idea about what's out in front of you." Two of the special force operators ran fiberoptic camera cords over the lip of the trench, while the third questioned him.

"Yeah. I guess so. Their main line is about 300 meters straight west of us, along State street. They've pushed some scouts out into an OP/LP about five minutes ago. Some of our guys were still out there. They didn't make it back." Nobody said anything and Mallory would have been surprised if they had. If you were too stupid to run when you had a chance you got what was coming to you.

"I've only seen one of the big camel-walkers but none of the two-legged sprinters. Somebody down the line spotted a couple of those floating tanks about an hour ago, so there are some of those in the neighborhood as well.

"I got it, OP about 150 meters west. Red roof material, looks like Spanish tiles." One of the Operators whispered.

"Copy that, I see it too. Not getting much with the thermals, but audio mike is definitely picking up some movement inside the rubble." The other commando agreed. "At least one, maybe two ETs inside."

"What do they have inside their main line of resistance?" The operator in charge asked.

"Several of those bigger laser machine guns and energy mortars. Those fuckers can chew up a tank if they wanted to. Chewed us up pretty bad as we fell back last time. The line was crumbling then. Oh, and at least a half dozen of those machine gun grenade launchers. I'd say at least several companies of infantry troops by now." Mallory reported.

"What do you think, Reilly?" The special force leader asked one of his men.

"That OP/LP is our best bet. Best hit them sooner rather than later, before they can bring up more reinforcements through the night. That whole enemy MLR is gonna be crawling with ETs in a few hours."

"Alright, here's our plan. We've got four surviving experimental Mitsubishi MK-2 amplified mobility platforms camped out in the golf course behind this position. I'm going to have them hit the ET's MLR in ten minutes." The commando leader said.

"That's suicide." Cortez objected.

"Those drivers know what they're getting into, Sergeant. This fight hasn't been cheap for anyone." Cortez grunted but remained silent after that. The Operator continued," The three of us are going to hit that OP at the same time and try to do us a little snatch and grab. The second you see us go in, Sergeant, I want this whole line opening up with some covering fire. Got it?"

"Got it." Mallory answered for the both of them.

"That thing work?" the Operator pointed at the 'phaser' strapped to his leg.

"Hell, yeah. I don't know how much juice it's got left, though."

"Good. Use it to keep any overly anxious ETs off our butts when we come running back. Hopefully we won't be alone. We won't be waiting for the AMPs either. Our mission after that will be to get whatever prisoners we can grab and make it through the bombardment zone and back to the army's positions near Highland. We could use some Rangers to cover our ass when were hefting the alien across the zone." The Operator pointed to the rear.

"We can do that, no prob." Cortez offered. "What happens if you guys go down?"

"We're expendable assets, same as you. But a prisoner is not, Comprende?"

"Gotcha."

"Good, let's get this show on the road then, shall we?" He gestured to his two men along the trench. Mallory couldn't see them but he knew somewhere on the reverse slope behind his position four giant, mechanized exoskeletons were moving forward. At three and a half meters and armed with a GAU-50 heavy anti-tank gun they could put a world of hurt on whatever found itself in their sights.

It felt like an eternity before the four lumbering machines crashed through the prepared pathways through the American positions and lifted themselves up and over the lip of the trenches. Their movement was only a pale shadow of the ground-shaking, enemy camel-walkers. The Operator made several hand gestures to his fellow commandos and they were up and entering the strip of land between the two opposing armies.

Mallory lost the three of them as they moved on their bellies a few meters away from his position. Mallory and Cortez peered carefully from their cover. The charging giants made it about fifty meters before the enemy line opened up on them. The exoskeletons opened up with their GAU-50s which sounded like giant sheets of paper being ripped in half as they fired. Several dozen grenade launchers erupted from the miniature walkers as they let loose with everything they had. The Imperial line was instantly lit up by AMPs' barrage.

Heavy blasts came from the north, tearing one of the AMPs in two. Mallory looked in that direction and noted a pair of distant bipedal walkers that continued to pour fire at the earthlings inside the three remaining AMPs. One of them turned to provide cover fire, just as a second AMP collapsed. Its driver burned to death at his controls from the heavy fire of one of the enemy's laser machine guns.

"That's our cue." Cortez whispered. Mallory's eyes caught a quick flash of a black silhouette as it ducked inside the enemy OP/LP. He imagined he knew what it was like inside that distant pile of rubble but shoved that memory into the back of his mind.

"Let's go! Pour it on!" Cortez screamed as the American line opened up. Machine gun tracers and FGM-172 SRAW rounds flashed across the gap between the lines as powerful plasma rounds streaked back to impact the NAU line. Mallory's night vision was lost in an instant as enemy flares lit the battlefield.

The third AMP went down in a cataclysmic explosion that lit the battlefield. It was enough to illuminate the three Delta Force Operators running back to their position, a supported enemy ET between two of them. The third Operator turned and fired his rifle from the hip just as enemy laser fire connected with his chest. The commando did not scream because he had no lungs with which to make the sound as he collapsed spinelessly to the ground.

The last AMP was a sparking and smoking mess as it held its ground as long as it could. Dozens of concentrated heavy laser fire batteries connected with it at once, slagging it in place.

Mallory suddenly saw movement back at the OP/LP. The vague human figure of an enemy scout lifted a rifle to its shoulder and took careful aim at the retreating commandos. Mallory snapped the 'phaser' upwards and squeezed off several rounds in the alien's direction. A flash of light marked where his fire made contact with the ET's chest plate. The alien flopped limply back into the rubble.

Enemy fire made contact with one of the commandos, spinning him until he crashed lifelessly to the Earth. His forward momentum carried the last Operator and the enemy prisoner into the American trench, where they practically landed on top of Mallory.

The Delta Force commando was instantly on his feet, helping the slow moving alien to its feet as well. Mallory stood up again and spotted cables running from the ETs leg, deducing that the commandos must have hit it with the ElectroDart when they had assaulted the OP.

"Come on, shithead on your feet." The Operator ordered the alien who struggled to obey.

Cortez kept the alien covered with his rifle as the commando patted down the ET for weapons. He handed a small pistol-like 'phaser' and several of the alien grenades to Cortez, who quickly pocketed them in his uniform's thigh pouch. The alien was dressed in a black body suit with camouflaged armor that covered its waist, hips, chest, and arms, as well as a pair of armored white boots. Its helmet was white with stripes of gray and green camouflage and large black lenses that looked quite different from the regular alien infantry soldiers Mallory had seen before.

These were the type that rode those flashy, flying motorcycles that he had caught glimpses of as they raced through the enemy lines. He'd seen them roast several Stryker IIIs and light armored vehicles a couple of days ago on the retreat out of Pomona.

A huge chunk of the trench exploded to their left followed quickly by another section off to their right as earth shattering, alien energy artillery rounds started landing on their lines.

"Time to get this asshole out of here." the Operator suggested. Cortez just nodded in agreement as he took the alien's free arm and helped the commando guide the alien to the rear. Mallory followed in their wake, covering them with the alien 'phaser'.

"Wait." Cortez stopped. "Take off his helmet. I bet he can chat with his buddies through it."

"Makes sense." The Operator took the helmet off and handed it to Mallory. The alien's face was just as human as his own. It looked dazed and confused, as it was still recovering from the ElectroDart.

"Watch his hands, too. Those gloves of theirs are pretty strong." Mallory pointed out, remembering well the pain they had inflicted on him. Cortez and the Operator restarted their journey, moving the prisoner into a communication trench that led to a maze of yet more entrenchments.

Around them soldiers and refugees stared and pointed in amazement at the sudden appearance of the captured alien in their midst. Cortez shouted at people to get out of their way and clear a path. Someone threw a rock that connected with the alien's back armor and a crazed-looking woman spat in the alien's face as he passed. But for the most part people moved out of the way for them. They seemed to understand the importance of a prisoner and hoped he got what was coming to him.

Soon they were out of the warren of trenches and hurrying across a small golf course packed with further refugees who were digging foxholes and shelters into the fairways. Thousands of makeshift tents packed every foot of the last remaining land between the Imperials and what appeared to be certain doom. Ahead of them rained the blue fire of the enemy's orbital bombardment and five miles of glassy superheated no-man's-land that lay as a blackened scar on the landscape. Every few minutes a refugee or soldier would slip away into the darkness and take their chance at making it across. The few military police units that still remained on this side of the zone hardly made an effort to stop any of them.

Several last pickets waved them through the final American sandbagged position. Mallory suddenly felt the temperature rise as the ground started to crunch and crumple under his feet. Sweat started to pour from every pore on his body as he flipped his night-vision viewer over one eye. Ahead of him the ground was a flat plain of black and gray ash. Every building had been evaporated and all signs of the existence of a roadway atomized. Everywhere his gaze fell it met with blackened, charred skeletons that still smoked and burned, recent victims who had been caught in the enemy's superheated blasts. The smell of burnt flesh assailed his nostrils and he had to fight the urge to vomit.

The four of them involuntarily ducked as a heavy blast impacted a half klick to their left. They hardly slowed. Even the prisoner must have known what would happen to him if he stopped in this place. Maybe even better than they did.

Mallory was starting to feel his footfalls getting slicker as the rubber in the soles of his boots began to melt. There wasn't any way he could possibly make it to the other side of the blast zone without horrific burns on his feet, he told himself. Just as the thought crept into his mind a steady thumping came out of the darkness ahead.

Flying only a meter off of the deck an old UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter hovered to a landing in front of the group. Three ground-shaking impacts nearby lit up the space around the transport as Cortez and the Delta Force commando loaded their prisoner aboard. Cortez turned and half helped and half heaved Mallory into the crew compartment.

In the fading light of the enemy fire, Mallory noticed the two pilots wore advanced night-vision goggles that allowed the craft to fly without the aid of GPS or terrain contour matching. He swallowed hard when he realized they had to fly over terrain that had only been shaped in the past few days and gave off superheated updrafts that threatened to lift the helicopter high enough to be picked up by the enemy's radar. They had to keep the helicopter only a few meters off the ground and an errant rubble pile or telephone pole would doom them all.

"Get in the door and keep an eye out for any of those damn 'H' fighters tailing us. Helicopters don't stand a chance against them." The Operator yelled to Mallory over the noise of the craft's engines. Mallory moved over behind the door gunner and peered out into the inky blackness behind them. He lowered his night-vision and picked up dozens of the enemy fighters over the city but none that were paying them any attention.

"We got a bunch of spotters in the line ahead." The door gunner yelled at him. "We see any sudden red strobes we're hitting the deck and running. It means we've picked up an unwanted tail." Mallory gave him an understanding thumbs up.

Mallory looked over at the prisoner, realizing that his orders would be to drag him along if the helicopter went down. High command only cared that the prisoner made it back to the American lines. The rest of them were expendable. Luckily the ground was racing by a meter or so below him so the fall wouldn't be too awful.

The prisoner looked dejected and lost. He finally put his face in his hands and hung his head low. Sergeant Cortez never took his rifle off of the ET for a second. Suddenly the ground below changed as they passed out of the blast zone with several near impacts shaking the craft back and forth just as it crossed over. The pilots fought to steady the craft before setting it down in the American lines.

The three of them were out the door with their prisoner in a heartbeat. Several more Rangers appeared and formed an escort around the alien. Within a few moments they were in front of an officer that was obviously from military intelligence. The new officer looked the alien over carefully.

"Boy, I hope you're a talker. Do you understand me?" The officer addressed the ET.

"Yes, I understand you, you're speaking plain basic. My name is Han Tycho, I'm a Corporal, and my serial number is TK-4211. By your own law that is all I have to say to you." said the ET, who sounded like a regular human from Earth, much to the astonishment of those assembled.

"Oh, you'll have more to say than that, by the time we're done with you." The intelligence officer threatened.

"E chu ta, I'm not saying a kriffing thing." Whack. The intelligence officer hit the human-looking alien squarely in the center of its face. The suddenness of the move startled several onlookers. The alien staggered back a step, checking its nose to see if it was broken, "Fierfek, you're worse than rebel scum."

"Yes, yes we are." The intelligence agent sneered. Two guards took the prisoner away. Mallory and Cortez watched as the surviving Operator and intelligence officer followed.

Miles away the last American lines inside Los Angeles were pounded to pieces by the enemy's massed heavy artillery batteries and arriving camel-walkers. They had made it out.

Mallory looked at his Sergeant. "Now what?"


	30. Brakatak 3

Highway 24, Watseka, Illinois, NAU, Earth

The Secret Service had driven hard since evacuating Air Force One during the early hours of the morning. They hadn't stopped for anything until the sun started to rise over the Illinois prairie.

Now they were holed up in a local oil-change garage in a tiny town the President had never heard of until an hour ago. One of his agents stood in the middle of Highway 24, flagging down other members of his party as they trickled in from the east. The parking lot outside was slowly being filled with vehicles that had been confiscated by high-ranking members of the government from here all the way back to Fort Wayne. Several senior members of his cabinet and military staff that had already caught up with him were milling about in the small parking lot and waiting area of the garage. A sickening haze of smoke was in the air, drifting in from fires that were burning unfettered in the ruins of nearby Chicago.

The town itself couldn't have been home to more than a few hundred souls. A discomforting sign on the local grocery store proclaimed that it was out of food, while gas prices on the filling station across the highway proclaimed motorists could fill their tanks for 49.99 ameros per gallon. The President knew the locals were price gauging and had no qualms when the Secret Service and their National Guard escort confiscated as much gas as they needed from the station. The owner didn't complain too loudly when he saw all the armed soldiers lined up at his fuel pumps.

Throughout the morning, vagabond civilians passed through the town. Some piled into cars and trucks but many remained on foot, pushing what was left of their belongings in front of them in purloined shopping carts. One family zipped through the town on bicycles while a larger group went the other direction on horseback. East, west, north, and south; it didn't seem to make a difference to people. They were all fleeing something.

The National Guard kept them away from the President and his slowly-forming convoy.

"Got some good news, Mr. President." The NSA told him as the man handed him a cup of steaming coffee from the garage's meager coffee pot.

"Oh, what's that?"

"Those Air Force techs that abandoned your plane last night confiscated one of Fort Wayne's local news vans and loaded it up with as much equipment as they could before hightailing it after you. Our sentries out east along the highway just picked them up and are sending them our way. From what I gather they've been picking up short-wave flash traffic from all over the Union, including Los Angeles." The National Security Advisor reported.

"That's is good news. When they get here I want that van under constant protection."

"They'll have it. God knows how deaf, dumb, and blind we are out here."

"Mr. President, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs has arrived and would like to speak with you." Said the White House Chief of Staff who had been acting as the President's secretary since their flight from Washington a week ago.

"Send in the General." Harris replied, watching out the window as the Chairman weaved his way through the parked vehicles and Secret Service agents that surrounded the building. The veteran soldier was accompanied by another officer who looked even worse for wear than the Presidential entourage did this morning.

"Mr. President." The Chairman said as he whipped off a proper salute. The President returned it while he eyeballed the younger officer who was with the General. The man's battle dress uniform was burnt along one sleeve and it was obvious by his scruffy face and hollow eyes that the soldier hadn't shaved or slept in several days.

"Sir, this is Major Nathan of the 7th Cavalry Regiment." The Chairman said.

"Ah, one of our best units in LA." The President said offering to shake the soldier's hand.

The Major took it and responded with a death grip of a handshake. "It was, Sir."

The President hesitated as he thought about what the soldier must have gone through. "I see. I need you to tell me everything you know. But first, how did you find me?"

"Three days ago some of the specialists in the 7th, you know commo, signal warfare, some artillery crews that were still breathing, were ordered out of the city. I was one of them." The Major started. "I left my men in the city." Anger flashed in the Major's eyes.

"Yes, I gave those orders. Based on the best information provided by our generals. It was my understanding that LA was likely to be lost and that we should act to save as many of our highly-trained specialists as possible. We're now digging in around the city to contain the Imperials." The President said. He knew the order hadn't been a popular one. The turmoil on the Major's face told of the anguish the officer must be feeling in having abandoned his men. "If it's any consolation our boys are still fighting inside LA. The city hasn't fallen yet."

"It will, Sir. I was there. There weren't many of us left. We can't hold the damn ETs back."

"Perhaps you'd like to have a seat while you tell me the rest?" The President indicated several empty chairs. The cabinet members filed out of the room to give the President some privacy. The Chairman stayed. "Hey Bill."

"Yes, Sir." The Chief of Staff shouted from outside.

"Who here knows science?" Harris asked.

"I saw the Director of DARPA not too long ago and I think we picked up at least one of the science geeks from the Office of Science and Technology Policy." Bill answered.

"Good. Round them up, please and any more of the Joint Chiefs that are outside. I think we all need to hear Major Nathan's report." Harris ordered.

The Chief of Staff left in a hurry. Within five minutes the small room was crowded with half a dozen more people. "Go ahead, Major." The President said.

"After my evacuation I was ordered back east to report to NORTHCOM on the conduct of the Battle of LA. We commandeered a civilian Gulfstream and were refueling at the remains of the airfield outside of Fort Knox, Kentucky when I learned the National Command Authority had landed in Fort Wayne and was heading west along 24. When we heard that we rushed up here and cut you guys off by landing in the small town of Gilman about fifty miles west of here." The Major reported. "After that a local high school kid let me hitch a ride in a beat up old Ford pickup."

"Sounds like a fun trip, Major. You did well. Can you tell us about what happened on the ground in LA?"

The Major paused for quite a while. The President assumed he was collecting his thoughts on where to begin. "The 7th was stationed between LA and San Diego when the aliens started shooting at us from space. They blew San Diego to hell and gone. Whole city was nothing more than a glass crater, but they had hardly touched LA. It looked to everyone like the likely landing site if the ETs were coming to ground. High command ordered us to move to Rancho Palos Verdes and start digging in. They were right. . ." he paused again.

"Go on, Major. We'd all like to hear about what happened to you and your men." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said. The President nodded in agreement. So little news had slipped out of the battle on the west coast due to the Imperial's signal interference that he was starved for information.

"We moved at a crawl up the PCH. The highway was packed with what seemed like the entire population of Orange County. The whole thing was just one giant traffic jam. People fleeing north and south. Our tanks had to drive up the shoulder pretty much the whole way. Then we got to Costa Mesa. . ." he paused. Someone gave him a mug of coffee. He just held it.

"The aliens were dropping a curtain of lasers from orbit. Trying to cut off LA from the outside world. It was working too. A nightmare is what it was. We pushed forward. Nobody's commo was working. The aliens were jamming everything. I had to stay up in the turret of my tank and give hand signals to the other tracks. BOOM, BOOM, one right after another. One tank then another would get hit. Then a truck full of infantry followed by a Stryker III or some other vehicle. Humvees went up like popcorn. Everyone lost it. I told my driver to floor it. Five miles of hell to get into LA. We lost forty percent of the 7th just getting into position. Most of the other divisions suffered just about the same."

The President turned to the Chairman and gave him a hard stare as if asking him if he knew about this. The Chairman gave a slight nod and looked away.

"We got into position and started entrenching right along the beach. A couple of hours later, near late afternoon, those 'H' fighters of theirs show up over the Pacific. The Air Force goes out to meet them and gets its ass handed to it. Our fighters were dropping like flies. From our viewpoint it was hard to see why. Our fighters were certainly faster and it didn't look like the ETs had any sort of missiles, just their phasers. Though the range they had on those was intense, just about the same as our fighter's missiles. I talked to a pilot who ejected over LA the next day. He told me the aliens had something up in space jamming all their weapon guidance systems. Not only that, but whenever one of those 'H' fighters talked to another it just drowned out all the commo gear in our own planes. After that unit cohesion dropped to nil and they were just torn apart."

"The Air Force is currently regrouping in Nevada. We're trying to get as many replacement squadrons out west as quick as we can." The Air Force Chief of Staff reported.

"And the strength of our west coast squadrons?" Harris asked.

"Minimum, Sir. It's as the Major reported." The general hung his head low.

"Continue, Major."

"After the Air Force bugged out these new 'H' fighters showed up. They were squatter and slower. My men later called them 'H' bombers. They flew right at the beaches and launched some sort of missile at our positions. My signal interception guys got a few snippets of alien gibberish at the same time. They heard one of the alien bombers call the things proton torpedoes. Well these proton torpedoes hit us like mini-nukes. They blew up the beach from Malibu to Long Beach. Whole units were there one minute and gone the next, just vaporized. Wasn't much more than a few companies worth of soldiers left of the entire 7th after that."

"Proton torpedo?" The President turned and asked the Science Advisor.

The Director of DARPA shrugged, "It could be some form of energized explosive compound we haven't discovered yet? Major, was there any high-levels of radiation after the attack?"

"I didn't really have any time to whip out a gieger-counter and check, Sir. We were pretty busy trying to survive." The Major said.

"Other units in and outside LA have reported no significant increase in background radiation since the Imperials landed." The Science Advisor reported.

"Cancer was the least of our worries. As soon as the bombers were gone they brought in these huge transports. They were the size of houses. Looked like helicopters but without the blades. They landed right on top of us just as we were recovering from those blasts. Their foot soldiers just piled out of those aircraft. Started blasting us right away with their hand-held phasers. . ."

"Wait, that's impossible." The DARPA Director interupted. "No matter what sort of laser is used, there is no way to get the energy source and laser into something small enough for an infantryman to carry around and inflict real damage. Even if engineers could shrink the energy source, there is so much waste heat generated from firing the laser that people wouldn't be able to hold it in their hands."

"Tell that to the ETs then. Or all the dead we had to leave behind on those beaches as we fled east. As for real damage, their phaser rifles could cut right through our humvees and deal serious damage to our Strykers and helicopters. They had a crew-served heavy machine gun version of their phasers that they brought up with them. Thing could slice right into our Leopards and Abrams like they were butter."

"Even at sea level?" The DARPA Director disbelievingly asking again. "What I mean is, we've only been able to achieve short firing distances with vehicle mounted lasers and we've been at it since the end of World War 2. The most we've been able to achieve with our solid-state lasers is sinking some small boats and shooting down a few SCUD missiles during our war with South America. The problem has always been that the energy has to cut through dust, salt, and every other piece of junk in our atmosphere. The problem gets worse at sea level where aerosols, salt and other obstacles litter the air. We had assumed the Imperials would carry some sort of ballistic weapon when they set down."

"You can't help but admire the efficiency of a gun," The Science Advisor interrupted. "With an M4 or another assault rifle you've got this projectile and its got all of its energy packed behind it. It's going to fly as straight as a laser for 300 meters; that's three football fields. So why invent a laser to zap some target at 300 meters when you've already got an assault rifle that doesn't need a power pack or anything like that. I can't imagine what it must have been that made the Imperials turn their backs on the gun but it must have been a social process of hundreds, if not thousands, of years."

"Those phasers of theirs were damn effective. Our body armor was useless. They could blast through half a foot of concrete with ease. They set everything on fire." The Major continued.

"What else did they have?" Harris asked. He leant forward in his own chair.

"Energized mortars, energy grenades, flame throwers, a pretty effective hand-held anti-tank missile launcher that looked too big for a single soldier to handle but they did anyways, flying motorcycles, and floating tanks with what we guessed was a forcefield surrounding them. Then came their walkers. They had two main types. There was the two-legged, chicken-looking type, which were quick. Then there were the slow, four-legged, camel-looking ones that were, I'd guess, four or five stories tall and pretty fucking indestructible. Excuse my language, Sir, but I lost a damn lot of boys to those things."

"I don't blame you, Major. Were we able to do any damage to the aliens?" Harris asked.

"I couldn't tell that first night. We tried to fight back, but they just poured too much on top of us. Command and control were gone. It was every man for himself in those first hours. When the second wave hit the next day we were still off-balance but a little more prepared, a little more dug in. No one wanted to retreat another inch."

"Good for you." The Chairman said slapping the Major on the shoulder.

"I personally witnessed a Leopard III hit an ET at a range of four blocks with its main gun. Tore the fucking alien in half. On the third day one of our unit's snipers hit another ET in the throat from 250 yards. Their medics were on the ET right away so I'm not sure if it was KIA or not, but yeah, they can be hurt."

Harris put a hand on the soldier's knee and looked him deep in the eyes. "Thank God, Major. Because trust me when I tell you this. For what they did to Earth and the 7th Cav we're going to make sure they feel plenty of hurt before this is all through."

**Overseer Billet Jenth, Guard and Overseer Compound, Concentration Camp 1138, Mars**

Brakatak did his best to keep as many prying eyes away from his friend as possible. This was a difficult task considering that most of the Gran living in his barracks had one more eye than most beings.

For the moment his old bull Frek Frek, his Ishi Tib friend Frip, his new charge Jason, a near-human from Earth, and himself were all that were gathered around the sleeping form of his herd member Ashla. Frip crouched at her bedside administering a Kolto IV into her arm. Her ailment was a mystery to all, especially Frip and Brakatak who had seen her healthy as a Bantha last time they had laid eyes on her over a month ago.

"So you know her then?" Frek Frek asked. The bull was dressed in his yellow overseer utility suit with padded armor placed over his vital soft spots. Dealing with the slave population here in the camp had necessitated such precautions over the last week.

"Yes, she is one of my herd in the city. They must be looking for us." Brakatak answered. He was also dressed for another long day at an Imperial work site. He didn't want to think about how many slaves would be worked to death before the sun went down again. He wanted to leave and never think of this place again.

"Strange, they should send some being that is so obviously ill." Frek Frek shrugged. "I'll talk to the guards. She's not a slave so she can probably remain in the camp for today."

"Tell him, you should." Frip hooted at him as he stood upright beside Brakatak. Brakatak hesitated.

"Tell me what." Frek Frek didn't like secrets. He had enough issues with the fact that Brakatak was hiding one of his near-human charges in their billets. If Brakatak hadn't convinced him that Jason had saved his life, and that the other earthlings would quickly kill him for being a so-called 'alien-lover', Frek Frek would have long ago sent him back out into the main camp.

"Look Bull, it's not like we knew when we first met her..." Brakatak started to explain.

"But..." Frek Frek looked impatiently at him with a stern warning in his eyestalks. He had had nothing but trouble from Brakatak over their years of captivity together.

"Well, she's a Jedi." Brakatak's voice was a little more than a whisper.

"E chu ta!" Frek Frek visibly shook with surprise, "That's all we need. It's bad enough you keep a Earthling in here with us. This could bring the Emperor down on us."

"The old Emperor, maybe. I haven't heard anything about Jedi from this new Martian Emperor we've got." Brakatak argued.

"Fierfek. A decade it being since heard last about them before we do 'big jump'. They all die in Clone Wars except refugee hiders. Not much trouble they do anymore." Frip added.

"Fine, it's not like the guards don't already know she's here. They brought her in last night, after all. You two, and you too," He pointed at Jason, "Had better keep an eye on her. She starts waving her glowing stick around and its going to bring more trouble down on the herd. You're responsible, Brakatak." With that word of warning he turned and joined the rest of the Gran overseers who were gathering at the door to their barracks, soaking up as much heat as they could before entering the cold Martian air.

"So, she's a girl?" Jason asked.

Brakatak and Frip both gave him a fishy stare. "Yeah, you see girl before. Tens of ten thousand girls in camp with you. Your kind has plenty near-human girls." Frip asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, but I've never seen one of your kind. Well, besides that ambassador on TV, but she looked like one of us. This one is. . . is. . . well she's red and white."

Brakatak laughed, wait till this boy got his first look at some Twileki piffers he thought. "Yes, she's red I guess, more crimsony I'd think. But she's not the same species as me or Frip."

"You said she was a Jedi. Is that why she's that color? And why does she have tentacles growing from her head?" Jason asked. Brakatak had never considered himself the most intelligent of beings but the naivety of these Earthlings surpassed anything he had ever come across.

"I'd watch it with the 'tentacle' talk. You might get slapped. Those are her lekkus..."

"Montrals." Frip corrected him.

"Right, montrals. Twileks have lekku. Togruta have both I think. You might have seen that a couple of the camp guards are Tail-heads. But, no. She's a Togruta, they're all red, with white pigmentation based on their clans or packs."

"Like family tattoos or something?" Jason asked.

"Kind of, though they are born with the stripes, I think. Really good hunters and fighters, Togruta are. It's the montral you see, it works as a spatial echo-locator. So you can't sneak up on them. Poodoo, she probably knows we're here even though she's asleep." Brakatak said.

"Venomous, some say they are." Frip hooted, pointing at Ashla's exposed fangs.

"So why did Frek Frek get so excited when you told him she was a 'Jedi'? Especially if she's really a Togruta."

"Nothing wrong with being a Togruta. It's her species you see. Jedi, however, are a type of religious cult based on Force-worship. She'd probably be able to tell you more about it than I ever could. They were an important part of the Old Republic until the Clone War ended and they betrayed everyone." Brakatak explained.

"Said Ashla, that never happened. Betrayed, the Jedi were." Frip interjected.

"Right, it's a matter of your viewpoint I guess. Anyways the Old Empire has hunted them almost into extinction. Hiding a fugitive Jedi carries the death penalty for you and your whole family, at the very least." Brakatak shuddered as he remembered some of the worst atrocities of the Jedi purges since the end of the Clone Wars.

"So the guards probably don't know she's a Jedi. You can't tell just by looking at them can you?"

"No, that would be too easy. They're pretty good at going to ground. Ashla here has been hiding for over twelve years."

"Wow, she sounds amazing. She looks...amazing."

Brakatak just shook his head in amusement. "Well, you can talk to her later, Lover Boy. Hopefully, she'll be up and about by the time we return tonight."

Brakatak and Frip finished applying their padded armor to their yellow utility suits before the three of them joined the rest of the overseers at the door. Brakatak and Jason cast one last glance at the sleeping Togruta in her bunk before Frek Frek opened the door and led the herd out into the yard.

Several hundred OverSeers and a little under a thousand black-suited guards milled about in front of the large gate leading to the main camp. Jason stood out in his red utility suit, adorned with nothing more than a red jacket, stocking cap and heavy work gloves. Nobody said a word about the near-human in their midst. Most of them had heard the story and knew it was a death sentence for the boy to stay on the other side of that gate. Brakatak wondered why any of them cared not to send the kid back anyways.

Jason and Frip both stayed close to Brakatak as the sun started to light the eastern horizon. A new group of OverSeers arrived in the waiting crowd and shoved an open space towards the front of the group. The newcomers were a mix of Weequays, Niktos, Baragwin, Zygerrians, and Whiphids, all of them sporting the scars and cuts of hard fighters. "Who's the new Hutt scum?"

"_Abandoned Hope_ prisoners. Kill you, kill me, they no care, one and all." Frip answered. "Last night arrive they did."

"Great, that's all we need," He turned towards Jason, "Stick close to me out there kid, those guys will kill you as soon as look at you."

"As if there weren't enough people trying to kill me out there." Jason sighed.

Brakatak felt bad for the near-human. Jason's defense of Brakatak against a fellow earthling prisoner had earned him the thanks and protection of the big Gran, but it had also earned him the hatred and animosity of his own beings.

"A low horn sounded out across the compound, followed by the metallic clanking noises of the gate's locking mechanisms disengaging. The gate swung outwards. Several dozen heavily armed guards manned bunkers and pillboxes in front of the entrance facing out into the fog-covered main camp. A pair of AT-RCTs took the lead as the OverSeers and guards started down the camp's main thoroughfare.

As usual the streets of the camp were, for the most part, empty. The earthlings had learned quickly that being out of their barracks at night brought the wrath of the guard sharpshooters in the camp's fortified guard towers. Yet every morning a few bodies would be found throughout the camp; Earthlings who had trouble accepting their lessons.

OverSeers started splitting off from the main group with their guard escorts. Behind him, red-suited earthlings started falling out of their barracks for morning formation. In some places guards were forcibly removing the inhabitants from their billets and in most barracks a wave of a shock baton or a force pike was enough to get the slaves moving. Some guards fired blasters into the air to encourage their prisoners to fall out quickly. In one or two buildings the guards fired a bolt or two into a resistant prisoner.

Brakatak arrived at his assigned slave barrack, Herf Shen, with Jason and five armored guards in tow. Frip split off for his own barracks with another team of guards. Brakatak's near-human prisoners filed out of their pourstone shelter and into loose formation to be counted. After only one week of hard labor he was down to eighty seven prisoners from his original hundred. It could be worse. There was another barrack in the camp that was down to thirty prisoners and at least three unruly billets had been completely liquidated by the warden.

His charges glared at Jason as he fell in to be counted with the rest. Their faces were resigned when they turned to Brakatak. He hoped that in the past week they had seen that the big Gran wasn't a cruel taskmaster and that he did what he could to get the prisoners extra rations when he was able. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that each of the barrack's thirteen younglings fell into the formation as well. A pair of guards entered the building to insure that every being was out before the line of prisoners was turned and marched towards the transport yard.

A massive transport cruised over the camp toward the main landing pads. Its cargo holds were packed full with tens of thousands of new arrivals from the war on Earth. Brakatak wondered if he'd get any of them to make up his missing numbers.

His group made their way back to the main avenue that cut through the camp. Hundreds of similar groups crowded the lanes between the barracks as they made their way to the landspeeder transports that would carry them to various work sites across the planet's surface. In the middle of one of the main thoroughfares a large gathering of about five hundred prisoners sat in a tightly packed group. A platoon of guards circled the resistive crowd while AT-RCTs took up position on one side of the mob.

Brakatak hurriedly waved his prisoners on after he saw two slaves run from a group in front of his to join the sitters. The warden appeared overhead in his airspeeder. He was speaking into his HyperWave radio to the guards on the ground below, which in Brakatak's mind meant nothing good for the protestors.

"Hell No! We won't go! Hell No! We won't go!" the resistant slaves chanted over and over again.

Brakatak's charges passed by the mob without losing any to the protest. The guards waved their force pikes menacingly at any potential joiners. "What are they doing?" Brakatak asked Jason as the group moved on.

"Non-violent protest. You know, like the anti-war movement or like that stuff that Martin Luther King Jr or Gandhi used to do." the Earthling answered.

"Non-violent protest?" Brakatak rolled the strange phrase around on his tongue a bit. He knew dissention in the Old Empire was always crushed under a durasteel fist. He remembered what had happened to his hometown on Kinyen that led to his enslavement. "If they believe they have a chance then they've never met beings raised on the Tarkin Doctrine?"

His words rang true moments later as screams filled the air behind him. The AT-RCTs waded into the huddled mass of near-humans, crushing the resistors under their footpads. Their double medium chin cannons sang out as they chewed up the near-humans who attempted to stand up and flee the sudden morning carnage.

Those who escaped the walkers were quickly shot or beaten down by the ring of guards. Smoke rose from the avenue behind them as Brakatak's group quickened their pace towards the waiting transports. Brakatak caught several of his charges looking backward over their shoulders to see their brethren beaten down and he lamented that they had to see it, especially the younglings. Thankfully, the noise from the protest died down when they reached the long lines of hovertrucks.

Brakatak's charges filed inside their designated repulsor craft along with several guards and the big Gran himself. The doors we're closed in the cargo bay and secured. Once the doors were closed the area was only lit by small blue lights on the roof of the compartment. With a lurch the vehicle was off and on its way across the red plains of Mars.

Brakatak listened to the slaves converse during the long journey. By the length of the trip most of the slaves agreed that they probably weren't in for another grueling day of agricultural or mining work.

He laughed when he heard a pair of them talking about Phobos, which had been highly visible the night before, and how much it differed from 'The Moon'. His prisoners had grown used to his friendly manner and how he often entered their conversations.

"Do you really call your planet's natural satellite 'The Moon'?" He asked the pair of earthlings who were discussing the subject.

"Um, yes, Sir. What else would we call it?" a slave answered meekly. Several of the guards grinned while another shook his head.

"How about by its name. There's a trillion moons in the Old Empire, you can't just go around calling every one of them 'The Moon'. Makes you guys sound like a bunch of Outer Rim nerf-herders." Brakatak tried to explain.

A guard suddenly asked, "What do you call your local system star, the, 'The Sun'?"

"Yes, Sir, it doesn't have another name." The prisoner answered again. His words sent the guards into a laughing fit.

"You beings are never going to fit into the greater galaxy as a whole with such a narrow, self-centered view as that." Brakatak observed.

Jason tried to defend his fellow near-humans, "Actually I think I read somewhere our moon is actually named Luna." A few prisoners agreed with him, while others disagreed that it had a name at all. Jason added, "I don't think the sun has any other name besides 'The Sun' though."

"The Navy and the HoloNews have been calling it Sol." A guard said, "Don't know who came up with that name."

"It's Latin." a slave answered. Several guards looked at the female who had spoken up, "It's an ancient language on Earth. Sol means 'Sun' in Latin." Her explanation sent more laughs through the guards.

Brakatak looked over at Jason, "All these years of 'so-called civilization' and your beings couldn't even come up with a name for your star?" He tried not to chuckle to the near-humans and their backwardness.

Both the slaves and the guards discovered more about the other as the time went by, though Brakatak had no illusions that the slaves who chatted with him would gut him in an instant if they had half a chance. Brakatak eventually got into a conversation about limmie with one of the guards, while the slaves listened with keen interest to another pair of guards discussing work they had done around the Inner Rim back in the Old Empire, the sheer size of which completely amazed the near-humans.

"The Emperor can't keep you beings as slaves forever. If you survive this I'm sure some of you will see large parts of the Empire as well." Brakatak said, but even he wasn't so sure of himself, the prisoners who had been here the longest were already starting to die off at ever increasing rates and he had never heard of any talk of the new slaves ever being freed. He felt momentary regret for giving them false hope but it did seem to relax some of the more worried prisoners in the transport.

The convoy of transports came to a stop after an hour and a half. The guards on the outside of the hovertruck disengaged the locks and the gate swung open. The guards and Brakatak were the first ones on the ground. The security forces quickly calibrated their charges' explosive slave chips embedded in their necks. If a slave moved more than a kilometer away from one of their barrack's designated guards the explosives on their spines would detonate. Everyday more and more decapitated corpses were found around the edges of every Imperial work site.

Brakatak stared helplessly at his new friend Jason, knowing the near-human had one of the infernal devices implanted within him. He knew any tampering with the device caused instant detonation and was at a loss for what he could do for the young earthling.

Their work site for the day was the largest on Mars, located another third of a hemisphere along the trailing orbit of the planet and well away from Concentration Camp 1138 and the sprawling metropolis of Culter City. Outside of the work site an landscape of red dirt and dust that stretched to every horizon. Not even the terraformers or agricombines had touched this section of the fourth planet.

Around them almost a half million near-human slaves were digging into the soil with only the most basic of hand tools. Several mole-miners blasted jets of plasma deeper into the crust while earthlings followed in their wake to clear away loose ore. Here and there huge digger crawlers manned by engineers from the Empire loaded up the ore and slowly moved it to horrendous blast furnaces manned by glowing, red-hot 8D smelter droids. Guards stationed at the furnaces warned slaves not to come too close to the sweltering smelter droids.

In the center of the site a huge tower pierced the atmosphere like a needle. It was made out of durasteel fresh from the blast furnaces and grew taller every hour as more slaves man-handled material up the sides of the building.

"Would you look at that. . ." Brakatak said to Jason as his charges found their assigned work area.

"It's pretty big, gotta be a least a hundred stories." Jason shrugged. It was hard for the earthling to get excited about anything his enemy built, especially since the work site continued to consume the lives of his fellow beings. Slaves at the base of the tower carried away corpses that had fallen from the unsafe working conditions near the top.

"Oh, it's bigger than that. But look it's a replica of the Shawken Sphire. That's one of the Twenty Wonders of Galaxy. The original touched low orbit and I bet you this one will too."

"That's nice I guess, make it easier for us earthlings to hit when the Earth strikes back." Jason suggested. He and another prisoner lifted a flexisteel beam and started their journey towards the tower. Brakatak and his guards made sure the rest of their charges followed suit.

"Watch what you say, Jason. I'd hate to think what the guards would do if they heard you talking like that." Brakatak warned. Jason nodded his head in understanding, a sudden worried expression crossing his face.

"So why are you guys building it way out here in the middle of nowhere?" Jason asked as they made the first set of stairs at the expanded base of the tower.

"They're installing tachyon collectors in the upper floors. When those are exposed to the dimensions of real-space they create near-limitless energy. The middle floors will house hypermatter annihilators. This thing will be putting out more hypermatter fuel than most sectors when it's done. Wish I could invest in the company making the thing right now. I'd be swimming in credits before you know it."

"So this thing makes the fuel for your starships?" Jason asked, already sweating in the cool morning sun. He removed his stocking cap and tied his jacket around his waist. Some of the male slaves on the tower were already working bare-chested.

"Kind of. It'll make the hypermatter fuel necessary for a ship to jump to light speed without changing its complex mass or energy." Brakatak loved to talk, but he felt like he was giving a school age lesson to a youngling. How was it that a species survived without knowing about hypermatter?

"So kind of like 'warp' engines. We're working on them on Earth." Jason suggested.

"I have no idea what a 'warp' engine is, but I guess it's the same concept. I'd have to see a 'warp' engine in action before I could say for sure."

"They're from the 'StarFleet' SciFi show. If you guys are getting our satellite television signals, it's the best show ev..." Jason's suggestion was cut off by a sudden shriek and a scream from the floor above. Brakatak stared in helplessness as a pair of slaves and a durasteel beam fell past them and tumbled a dozen stories to the ground below.

Brakatak charged to the front of his line of slaves. Near the head of his column several of his youngling slaves cowered in front of a menacing Nikto OverSeer. Guards tried to get the line moving again around the two of them as Brakatak squared off with new OverSeer.

"What is the meaning of this? Why'd you throw two of my prisoners over the side?" He screamed at the Nikto.

The Nikto looked relaxed, as if he hadn't just murdered beings without provocation. "Them? Oh, they were in my way." he laughed.

"We're supposed to be getting as much work out of them as possible, not just killing them without reason. If you have a problem with a slave, take it to the guards and they'll deal with it."

"That's not what I was told Friend-O. I got told these earthlings are fair game."

"Not my prisoners." Brakatak warned.

"Maybe you and I should settle this right now." The Nikto pulled himself upright and squared off to the big Gran. Brakatak eyed the proximity of the ledge out of the corner of one of his eyestalks. Suddenly there wasn't a guard to be found. The Nikto flashed a murderous smile.

The smile gradually disappeared as he noticed the presence of almost eighty slaves surrounding him. Eighty slaves who had just witnessed two of their own murdered by this spike head. "Get back to work you kriffing shifters." He yelled at them but his voice had lost a little of its bravado.

That was all it took for Brakatak to strike. His fist contacted the Nikto's spiked skull. Pain shot through Brakatak's fist. The Nikto turned back to him with a flash of rage in his eyes. He never saw the five Earthlings who hit him from behind. The Nikto swung out with his arms and legs but it was too late. He toppled over the ledge and to his doom.

For a moment Brakatak stared at his slaves. He suddenly felt very alone because there was nothing he could do to stop them from doing the same thing to him. Fear gripped his body and he knew he wouldn't even fight back if they tried anything.

Jason was the first to step forward. Brakatak could hardly believe his new friend would betray him. Jason faced the Gran for a moment then slowly picked up the flexisteel beam he had been carrying. Another slave grabbed the other end. The other slaves followed suit and continued their trek up the side of the tower.

An instant later a squad of guards appeared to investigate the commotion and the work stoppage. They were shocked when Brakatak explained that an OverSeer had fallen to his death. Brakatak didn't think they bought his story of an accident and he noticed several guards sticking close to the unarmed OverSeers for the remainder of the day. At least he had done enough to save the near-humans from reprisals for the Nikto's death, he thought.

His charges made the journey up one hundred and eighty flights eight times that day. Each time they carried a heavy load and every round trip added another floor to climb. Imperial workers near the peak donned rebreathers in the thin atmosphere, while slaves carried their brethren who had passed out from the lack of oxygen back back to the lower levels to be revived. There was a turbolift system in place for the guards and OverSeers but Brakatak chose to make each journey up and down the tower with his slaves. He also maintained his system of fifteen minute breaks every hour, which was well received by the earthlings.

He was much quieter on the journey back to the camp once the star Sol had passed below the horizon and work had been halted on the site. The slaves had been loaded up onto transports while high above their heads construction droids continued the tower's construction and smelter droids manned the blast furnaces to ready materials for the next day's work.

Brakatak lost himself in thought as the slaves around him tried to catch as much sleep as they could in the back of the transport. His mind's eye replayed the attack of the slaves on the Nikto, and he wondered over and over why they didn't do the same to him.

The transport lurched to a stop over an hour later and the back gate dropped to reveal the bright floodlights of the concentration camp. The slaves filed out of the hovertruck and were herded back their barracks before the alarm chime blew and the guards in the towers started taking pot shots at them.

Brakatak reported to the clerk at the kitchens. "Barracks Herf Shen, full rations."

The clerk just nodded and marked a notation down on his datapad. Soon the slaves occupying his barracks would receive a vat of weak soup and bread with barely enough calories to keep them working tomorrow. He wished he could do more for them.

He was lost in his worries as the guards at the OverSeer Compound barricade waved him through, Jason following along at his side. The normally chatty earthling walked in silence, a result of being knocked akk-dog tired. The compound was nearly empty as the two of them crossed towards their own billet. Brakatak figured his work convoy must have been one of the first ones back to the camp.

The Gran was too immersed in his thoughts to notice that the lights had been turned off in his barrack. Jason entered the area of the doorway that was lit by the courtyard floodlights.

Suddenly the earthling's head was jerked backwards, a small gasp of surprise escaping from his lips. With a buzz and a click, a blue lightsaber flashed to life at the near-human's neck. A red hand held his head tight as a menacing voice pierced the darkness.

"You have exactly one heartbeat to tell me why I shouldn't cut your head off, Sith!"


	31. Phasma 3

Distribution Point A-3, Camp Chicago, Davenport, Iowa, NAU, Earth

President Harris of the North American Union stared out at the vast multitude of faces staring back at him. After two days of travel by convoy he found himself in the midst of the sprawling refugee camp that FEMA had dubbed "Camp Chicago".

Though a great majority of the camp's population counted themselves as former residents of the Windy City there were upwards of a million souls who had found their way to the perceived safety of the camp from the wreckage of cities as far west as Kansas City and Omaha, north from Minneapolis and Detroit, and south from St. Louis, Memphis, and Nashville. The bulk of the mid-west was pouring into the camp. The FEMA director working from inside Camp Chicago had informed the President that there were camps like this springing up outside of almost every major city in the Union.

Davenport was the natural center of the massive camp. Located along the banks of the upper Mississippi in the heart of Iowa farmland, it also boasted the convergence of four Interstates and two highways. Most importantly the small city also housed two water treatment plants powered by nearby wind turbines that were now providing millions of gallons of purified drinking water to the swarms of refugees that had poured into the area. Those two plants were now under heavy guard by the Iowa National Guard and State Patrol.

President Harris stood behind a podium atop a makeshift stage and looked out at the sea of humanity that spread out before him. Several portable stadium speakers had been set up to carry his voice across the crowd that stretched as far as the eye could see. Every foot of usable space was covered by white tents or FEMA trailers that were filled to bursting. Miles away people gathered on rooftops to catch but a small glimpse of his speech.

The stage was strategically designed to face east so that the crowd would not have to watch the billowing column of smoke that still rose from Chicago and dominated the brownish-orange eastern horizon. Instead, the crowd would see their President positioned in front of a giant, colorful flag of the North American Union. A line of guardsmen stood in front of the stage to keep the crowd at bay. The soldiers wore riot gear and had donned MOPP gear environmental suits against the toxic haze that filled the air.

Harris took a sharp breath of smoke-filled air that stung his nostrils. He wore no protective mask for the benifit of the cameras. He sucked down what he had been told was purified water from a sealed plastic bottle to clear his throat. He noticed hundreds of people in the packed crowd were wearing medical masks or scarfs tied across their faces while other wore goggles to keep the smoke from stinging their eyes. With hundreds of cities across the Earth reduced to powdered ash the smoke cloud from all of them now encompassed the majority of Union with its toxic fumes. He tried not to think of what, or who, he was sucking in with every breath.

Instead the President thought of the purpose for his being here today. He tried to imagine all of the famous speeches he had learned in his youth; Martin Luther King's "I have a Dream", Roosevelt's "Day of Infamy", and Lincoln's "Gettysburg Address". He wondered if those great men had felt like he did now on such a momentous occasion. The truth will set you free, he thought. A masked cameraman silently gave him a three count and then pointed at him to start. The President took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I speak to you as President in a solemn hour for the life of our country, of our Union, of our Allies, and above all the cause of freedom. A tremendous battle is raging in Upper California and along the shores of China. The Imperials, by a remarkable combination of orbital bombing and heavily armored attacks have broken through our first lines of defense inside the city of Los Angeles. Behind them there are now appearing infantry transports, and behind them, again, the large masses of extraterrestrial forces are moving forward. The regrouping of our armies to make headway against, and also strike at, this intruding beachhead has been proceeding for several days, largely assisted by the magnificent efforts of the Air Force."

His words echoed across the crowd. He spoke slowly and carefully, letting the words settle in the ears and minds of the refugees before continuing. Many people near the stage murmured and shook their heads in disbelief. With the collapse of the internet and digital communications this was the first many of them had heard of the Imperial landings that had happened a week ago.

"Many of us have lost loved ones. Our homes and livelihoods have been razed to the ground by the merciless invaders from beyond the stars. I am here to assure you that the North American Union and our Allies in the great nations of the Earth will take back what was taken from us. Our factories may be damaged and our cities burned but we will rebuild, we will regroup, and we will reconquer. The whole of our Union is engaged, not only soldiers, but the entire population, men, women, and children. The fronts are everywhere. The trenches will be dug in the towns and streets. Every village will be fortified. Every road barred. The front lines will run through the factories you rebuild. The workmen are soldiers with different weapons but the same courage.

There seems to be every reason to believe that this new kind of war is well suited to the genius and the natural resources of the Canadian, Mexican, and American nations that make up the North American Union; and that once we get properly equipped and properly situated," He tried not to think of all the soldiers who had been haphazardly thrown into the battle for Los Angeles with little to nothing to show for their efforts. ". . . A war of this kind will be more favorable to us than the somber slaughters we have inflicted upon each other over the past century. If it is the case of the whole Union fighting and suffering together, that ought to suit us, because we are the most united of all the nations, because we entered the war upon a national will and with our eyes open, and because we have been nurtured in freedom and individual responsibility and are the products, not of totalitarian uniformity of the Empire, but of tolerance and variety. If all these qualities are turned, as they are being turned, to the arts of war, we may be able to show the enemy quite a lot of things they have not thought of yet.

I want to share with you what the Empire told us two weeks ago in San Francisco. A city that no longer stands. The Golden Gate Bridge is no longer a symbol of manifest destiny that drove our country to greatness. It was there that I, along with other leaders of Earth's great nations, met with the Ambassador of the 1st Galactic Empire. The Empire was not there to negotiate or offer their hand in friendship. Instead they were there to make demands, to place impossible hardships upon the citizens of our great Union. They wanted millions of slaves to be delivered in annual shipments and raw materials in amounts that would have bankrupted any nation. But most of all they wanted our capitulation. They wanted us to bow down to and participate in a wicked enterprise that we had cast aside centuries ago."

The crowd was no longer silent as they understood for the first time what had been asked of them and deep seated currents of anger surfaced and were given voice. The president continued quickly, loath to let that anger take root and distract them from their ultimate purpose.

"Our Canadian and Mexican brothers have never stood for slavery but it took a war that ripped this nation in two and cost hundreds of thousands of lives to put an end to the enslavement of our fellow man. The Empire wanted us to return to those old ways and they wanted us to do it on bended knee.

This is what our soldiers in Los Angeles are fighting to prevent. This is the darkness you must keep at bay when you return to the factories that will arise like phoenixes across our Union. This is the evil we will prevent when you are asked to help in our fields to raise the crops that will feed our soldiers and our Union.

"The course of world history is the noblest prize of victory. We are still toiling up the mountain and we have not yet reached the crest-line of it. We cannot yet survey the landscape on the other side or even imagine what its condition will be when that longed-for morning comes. Our immediate task is at once more practical, simpler and more stern. I hope, indeed, I pray that we shall not be found unworthy of our victory if after these trials and tribulations it is granted to us. We have a duty to be victorious, not only for ourselves and for those we have lost, but for the generations to come. That is our only task."

The crowd erupted with an outpouring of emotion. Hats and banners were thrown into the air. The overwhelmed people before the stage cheered, screamed, and cried, sometimes all at once. The President waved to the crowd. For the first time since the bombardment began he felt in his heart that The Union would be victorious. He had no doubt it would be a long, impossibly hard road ahead but he felt certain that tyranny would never overcome the will of the people.

Airhorns and rifles shot into the air but were hardly heard over the roar of the crowd. The Secret Servicemen and the guardsmen in front of the stage looked nervous. Harris continued to wave and tried to emit a sense of strength to inspire courage in his people. For the first time he had no concern about what his popularity levels were. It felt good to all be working towards the same common goal of survival and victory. Instead he thought of what he could do next to get these people back onto their feet again.

When he finally walked off stage several of his military officers and cabinet awaited him. Someone handed him a gas mask to put on. His entourage slapped him on the back and congratulated him for a fine speech. But now was not the time for such things. There was work to be done. He turned to his gathered staff and asked.

"Ok, what's next?"

**The Martian Imperial Palace, Culter City, Mars**

The noise of a nearby construction droid outside of the palace woke Phasma from her deep slumber. She turned onto her stomach and tried to cover her head and ears with one of her many Aeien silk pillows. Outside the bay windows of her room the sun was only starting to peek above the eastern horizon.

"Why did he insist we move in before the contractors were finished?" Phasma Yos groaned into her pillows, yearning for the comforting silence of her old, smaller quarters aboard the _Quill_.

"Perhaps it was because it was not a proper place for a young princess to be raised," Phasma's Rodian personal assistant's silky voice cut across the darkness of the room. Of course, the Rodian's hunter senses had known the moment her young charge had awoken.

Then again, as the daughter of the 1st Martian Emperor she was never truly alone. Even when she was the only person in her sleeping room an entire suite of monitoring equipment stayed squarely focused on her. Everything from her breathing rate to her temperature was carefully fed into medical droid brains to ensure she remained at optimal health.

"Good morning, Standra." Phasma groaned as she turned and sat upright.

"Good morning, Your Highness. Are you prepared to start your day?"

"I guess so." She turned her body and swung her legs off the side of her large bed, slipping her feet into a pair of comfy slippers. As she did so Standra pushed a button on her wrist datapad and within a few seconds a half dozen armed and well-trained handmaidens entered Phasma's sleeping chamber to assist her with her needs.

Phasma was still getting used to all of the attention. It wasn't long ago that she would wake every morning alone in her father's quarters with nothing more than a culinary droid to make her breakfast, followed by her lonely duties as a cadet aboard a Star Destroyer. Having all this sudden attention thrust upon her was taking some getting used to. She had actually screeched the first time an attendant had followed her into the refresher.

Now Standra and the handmaidens waited patiently for her to finish her sonic shower before entering and helping her dress for the day and do her makeup. Her Coway and Caamasi hairdressers did her hair up into a pair of buns on the sides of her head.

A 3PO-series protocol droid brought in her breakfast tray as light started to filter in from her windows as the local star climbed higher in the sky. Phasma helped herself to some nerf bacon and five blossom bread, which she washed down with a cool glass of blue milk.

Her handmaidens dressed her in a green gown and then covered that with a white, wampa fur coat for fighting Mars's chilly temperatures. Her costume complete, the first Imperial Princess of the Martian Empire stepped out onto her large balcony. Standra followed, reciting Phasma's daily schedule and appointments from memory. Phasma nodded her approval for each one.

Twenty stories below sprawled an incomplete garden still being landscaped by several droids and gardeners. Already a beautiful, motley sea of colors radiated from several thousand blooming flowers. The Royal Garden stretched around the palace until it reached the shimmering Yos River.

Phasma thought of the name her father had given her at her birth and sighed. She knew now that she was no more a member of the Yos family of Denon than a commoner on the streets of Culter City. She was a clone, not the first and probably not the last. She wondered, not for the first time, if her so-called mother still lived somewhere back in the Old Empire.

Why had her father lied to her all these years, she wondered? Perhaps, if she could find out the name of her mother she could start to understand why he had done what he did. Of course she could never confront her father publicly. If the Martian populace ever found out she was a clone she doubted that they would still accept her as heir to the Empire.

A green planet shone brightly in the dawn's early light. She narrowed her eyes in hatred and turned her back to distant world slowly being reduced to nothing by the forces loyal to her father. Would they be as loyal to her? The clonetroopers would, no doubt, but they only made up a fourth of the 1st Martian Army. Who would the others follow?

She went back inside her suite. They would have years to figure out the answer to those questions. Her father may be in his early sixties but he still had quite a few decades in him. Denonian males routinely made it into their hundreds. She hoped her genetic template came from such good stock.

She passed through her rooms and into the corridor on the other side. Four blue-cloaked Imperial Guardsmen appeared and followed in her wake as she made her way through the palace. Workers and courtiers bowed and kept their eyes on the floor as she passed. Standra followed closely behind the guards. They passed several other guardsmen throughout the palace ground who remained still and stoic as she went by, their force pikes at the ready for any sign of trouble.

She made her way down to the palace's hanger. A white _Lambda_-class T-4a shuttle with the new Imperial Mars markings on its tail fin and wings sat along one wall. A pair of guardsmen stood at the base of the loading ramp, while several DiploServ stormtroopers maintained security over a number of vehicles in the hanger.

She and her entourage boarded the executive shuttle and took their seats. Her guardsmen took up places at the entry ramp and the flight controls of the craft. A female naval steward offered Phasma a steaming cup of Tatooine H'Kak bean tea. She gingerly sipped the tea as the craft made its way out into the bustling skylanes of the capitol.

She watched the crowded morning traffic from a viewport, noting the cleaning crews on the riverfront below picking up after the previous day's celebrations for her father's coronation. She wondered how he was faring this morning. When she had last seen him at the coronation ball he was already into his tenth or eleventh drink of the evening.

The work crews below wore red utility suits and seemed to be under heavy guard. She wondered who they were as the T-4a turned off of the Avenue of Empress Teta's Fields and onto the skyway above Tapani Boulevard. She noted several Culter City Guard traffic units in airspeeders momentarily stopping traffic as her shuttle passed by.

The T-4a came to a landing on a cloud-shrouded landing pad outside the Marscopolis Stock Exchange. Her guardsmen filed out before her and took up their places at the bottom of the landing ramp. Phasma pulled her heavy coat together around her small frame as the cold air from outside poured into the ship. She disembarked and strolled gracefully down a long, blue carpet towards several kneeling figures.

Still not sure what the proper etiquette was in these situations, Phasma whispered to the Muun male at the head of the group, "It's alright, you can stand up if you want." Behind her, Standra clicked her tongue in disapproval but Phasma ignored her.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness." The Chancellor of the Exchequer announced as he regained his feet. "The HoloNet hardly does your beauty justice." He bent forward again and kissed her offered hand.

"The pleasure is all mine. It is a great honor to get our new Empire underway in as many ways as possible. This should go a long way in letting beings believe that the New Empire is here to stay."

"I couldn't agree more, Princess. Out with the old and in with the new, I always say."

His words would have struck her as odd coming from any other broker. But this male had become filthy rich working for the long established Banking Clan and had almost been ruined by Palpatine's New Order after the Clone Wars. So it made sense that newer things tended to disagree with him, she thought as he introduced her to several of his aides and trading officers.

"If you'll follow me, Your Highness. I believe you'll find the trading floor much more comfortable than these chilly landing pads." he offered.

"Of course." They walked side by side as they entered the massive building, both their entourages following in their wake.

They came to a stop on the second level of an enormous trading hall with several large holoprojectors along the upper walls and ceilings. Below them stood hundreds of brokers and traders from dozens of species, waiting for the day's trading to begin.

The Muun stepped onto a lifted dais, raised his arms, and wait for the din on the trading floor to die down. Phasma noticed his blue image showing on dozens of holoimagers across the hall. Once he had silence, the Muun waved Phasma forward to speak to the crowd. She stepped forward towards a voice-thrower as HoloNews droids flitted about her.

"Ladies and Gentlebeings, it is with great honor that I come before you today. As most of you know we have been cut off from the vast trading power of the Imperial Stock Exchange on Coruscant for over two years now. Many of you have lost fortunes because of this. I'm here to tell you that those days are over. Not only have you traded goods and services on two planets, Mars and the gas-mining base above Earth 5, but this day has seen the launch of the Skakoan/Morseerian colony towards Earth 2, and as many of you know your products are in use on Earth itself, in the hands of our brave troopers. By the end of this week the HIMS _Stargate_ will be launched, spreading our civilization to the next system and beyond. Within our generation we shall leave this sector and travel to the greater Milky Way beyond, and goods and products that are made right here on Mars shall go with those enterprising explorers." Traders below applauded at the announcement, no doubt encouraged by all the credits they would be making in the future.

"In honor of the Empire that will take us beyond the stars, we hereby dub the MarsCopolis Stock Exchange the Imperial Mercantile Exchange. I declare trading to be open." She smiled and waved to the crowd. The Chancellor pushed a button he wore on a wrist signaler, and a huge Given chime-bell rang out while confetti rained down on the traders.

"Would you do us the honor of purchasing the first trade, Your Highness." The Chancellor asked the Princess. Phasma looked over to Standra, who nodded that it had already been approved. She didn't exactly know how many credits her father owned but she knew it was substantial. One of the benefits of being in the royal family, she figured.

"It would be my pleasure." She watched above while aurabesh lettering and numbers scrolled by on a holoimager. She suddenly saw one she liked. "I'll take fifty thousand shares of Dynamic Synergetic Incorporated please." She placed her thumb on the Chancellor's datapad and within milliseconds the transaction was finished.

"A wise choice, M'lady. With your father's fleet contracts predicted to expand over the next decade, demand in DSI's Hyperbaride synthesis plants will no doubt skyrocket faster than a spacer on the Kessel Run."

Phasma smiled at the compliment. She was mainly just interested in buying a percentage of a company that Moff Seco had been secretly buying shares of to offset Moff Kuat's control of the orbiting shipyards of Mars. But the Chancellor didn't need to know that.

She thanked the Chancellor and his aides and waved once more to the crowd below who were much more interested in the sudden hustle and bustle of trading to notice the now departing princess. Her entourage followed her back out onto the landing pad and back aboard the T-4a where her trusted handmaidens waited to help her prepare for her next stop of the day.

Once on board they secluded themselves from her Imperial Guardsmen and changed the princess out of her ceremonial dress and into the gray uniform of an Imperial Cadet. Her Second Lieutenant Rank cubes shone brightly from the plate on her chest. One of the handmaidens hastily rearranged her hair and fitted it under the sides of her Imperial Naval officer's cap.

Outside, the red, being-made canyons of Culter City flashed by as the shuttle made its way southeast to the Margaritifer Terra. The hilly region of military complexes and barracks was quickly becoming the second largest city on Mars. But if Culter City kept expanding like it did, the capital was predicted to swallow the militarized metropolis within the next few years.

At the moment the smaller city felt like a ghost town, since the army was still dirtside on Earth. They picked up a pair of TIE/In Interceptors that looked them over as they overflew empty rows of TIE landing zones. Two lonely AT-ATs made their way through a walker training course on their port side while the massive stormtrooper training site, modeled on the training grounds at Tipoca City, filled their starboard viewports.

The T-4a started to lower its altitude as it descended for another landing. The craft came to a halt in a cloud of landing vapor in one of the secure faculty landing pads. The Guardsmen were once again the first ones to exit the craft. She had a hunch that several more of them served undercover, either as faculty or fellow cadets, but she would never know who they were under their masks.

The school's Superintendent stood at the bottom of the ramp and he did not look pleased. "You're late. An Imperial officer is never late, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir. I know Sir." She whipped off a crisp Imperial salute; the arm gesture hadn't changed with the New Empire, "Family business."

"I see." He said. With any other cadet that excuse wouldn't fly but when her only family was the Emperor himself it was hard for the Superintendent to argue. "I'm assuming I shall see some of this 'business' on the HoloNews tonight. You've missed first period, Lieutenant. Get your _shebs_ in gear and get to second. Dismissed." Phasma wondered if he would address her so gruffly at the next court function he attended.

She didn't wonder too long as she took off at a run. Two of her Guardsmen followed at a reasonable distance while Standra and the rest of her security force reboarded the shuttle and lifted off for the palace.

Since she had already missed her Astral Cartography course she headed straight for the gym complex for her physical education. Most cadets took part in morning physical training before the sun came up but she had missed that today as well. She was sure Standra would schedule extra time with her Teras Kasi instructor this evening to make up for it.

She changed quickly into her training gear and joined the co-ed class in the gym. The multi-specied class was already split into two teams and Phasma went to join her regular team mates. Though she was the smallest player in the class because of her age, thanks to her newfound celebrity she felt certain that her stature wasn't the only reason she stuck out like a sore thumb.

A drill instructor signaled for the match to begin and both sides violently smashed into each other as a fast-paced game of slingball began. That was, the other students slammed into each other. But since no one wanted to take a chance with injuring their future Commander-in Chief and Empress, students flashed around her, only halting their forward progress long enough to avoid a collision with her. She was used to it and so were her team mates, passing her the ball several times because they knew the other team wouldn't dare to steal it away.

It was frustrating most of the time, but not today. She took the ball and lowered her shoulder into an older female Twilek who had accidentally crossed her path. The tail-head realized her mistake a moment too late and was caught off-balance by the princess's attack. Her opponent fell, leaving a huge hole in the opposing team's defense. She passed the ball quickly to her team's best scorer, a cute older male from Anaxes. With a quick flip of his stick the ball went flying into the other team's net.

The male bowed at the waist and thanked her for the assist before running over to their team mates and getting more personal hand slaps and congratulations from the other cadets. Phasma pretended not to be bothered that she didn't quite fit in with her fellow cadets, but it was a lie.

After the game, she went and took a quick sonic shower before changing back into her uniform. She attended her language class next, where she argued with her instructor that Huttese was a dying language on Mars since no Hutts were brought along with the forces of _Tarkin's Fist._ Her professor countered with the fact that several Mid and Outer Rim species, such as the Weequay and Nikto, used it quite frequently in the markets of Culter City.

"A dying language is one that no longer changes. It is a stagnant language, which is what Huttese will surely become now that it has been cut off from its native speakers." She then stuck out her tongue and remained silent for the remainder of the class.

Next she had Advanced Quantum Physics, Imperial Ethics, and Galactic History, followed by lunch. Her blue-clad shadows followed her from class to class and stood behind her all during lunch. Their presence made her all but unapproachable which left her feeling even more isolated from her classmates. After lunch she went to the parade ground where she participated in blaster and marching drill with another cadet calling cadence for her class.

Her last two classes of the day were command and navigation courses, which were her favorites because she got to participate in actual simulations aboard a training simulation bridge of an _Imperial-I_ class Star Destroyer. She excelled at these courses, no doubt from spending almost her entire life on the bridge of the _Quill_ and learning from her father.

She spent several hours with tutors after school before her shuttle returned to pick her up. She settled into the nerf leather seats of the T-4a as it left the Martian Naval Academy behind. The craft slowed every now and then for evening traffic in Culter City's busy skyways as the local star settled in the west.

The Imperial banner of Mars was at full mast outside of the palace, signifying that her father was in residence at the moment. She shrugged as she thought that her father would be the first real conversation she had had all day. The shuttle made its way into the fortified landing bay of the palace. As usual a contingent of guardsmen awaited her as she left the shuttle. She walked slowly down the ramp, removing her cap and shaking loose her long hair.

She gave a sigh as she noticed the unmistakable figure of her father waiting for her at the atrium to the Royal Family wing of the Palace. She so wanted to question him about everything she had learned about herself from the earthlings and Captain's Yutu's secret investigation. She mustered her courage and made up her mind.

Her father looked sharp in the Grand Admiral's uniform that had turned into his Imperial regent's uniform the day before. He came forward with loving eyes and a warm smile across his face.

Aveo Yos wrapped his only youngling in a tight embrace. He held out his cheek, which Phasma lightly kissed. His eyes narrowed in concern.

"Is something bothering you, Jawa? You've been cold since your return from Earth." he asked, using his childhood nickname for her.

This was it, she thought. Could she challenge her father, stand up to him and demand answers? Her anxiety told her to test the waters first. "As cold as Polis Massa?"

He stood up straight and held his daughter's shoulders at arm's length. His eyes studied her face, pondering her meaning. And suddenly a fire of recognition seems to light in his eyes, which widened in surprise. "Everyone out." he ordered calmly.

The Imperial Guardsmen turned and silently filed out of the atrium, followed by Phasma's handmaidens. Phasma noticed a light rain had begun to fall against the viewports of the room as she waited to be left alone with her father. He motioned for her to have a seat on one of the plush couches in the room.

"So tell me what you know of Polis Massa." he stated. The look in his eyes was one of despair, as if he knew his heart was about to be shattered.

"I know it was a part of the Subterrel Sector and fell under your authority from the end of the Clone War till the 'big jump'. I know it was the home to the Kallidahin and I know that they were cloners." She bit her tongue then, afraid of hurting the man she knew as her father. But then she remembered that he had lied to her and that loosed her tongue once more. "I know I'm a clone."

Phasma watched him struggle to find the right words, watched him struggle to decide whether to continue the lie or speak the truth.

"So the Terrans told you. I was afraid of that. Yet another reason to wipe all traces of their civilization from existence. What did they tell you?"

"They found abnormalities in my DNA, similar to ones they had found while cloning farm animals on their planet. Evidently I was compared to my guard force that had been captured along with me."

"And none of those males were clones." Her father sighed as the final chips fell into place in his mind. "Hindsight is 20/20, I suppose. I should have sent clones with you in the first place and the Terrans would have reasoned the abnormalities to be part of our basic DNA."

"What's done is done. I know I'm not your biological offspring."

"That truth can doom our dynasty." Her father warned, but then his voice softened. "I've always felt and tried to raise you as if you were a youngling of my blood, but I realize you have too much of your mother in you."

"So you _do_ know who she is. Why did you have her cloned?" Phasma pleaded. This was the information she so desperately wanted to know.

"I. . ." he paused seeking the right words to say, "I admired your mother from afar throughout the Clone War. She was a Republic Senator representing the Chommell Sector. Her policies were representative of a view towards harmony and peace between all species. A view opposite of what the Old Empire became. I found nothing but beauty in her and her beliefs."

"So why didn't you approach her?"

"I wanted to but my duties with the Outer Rim Sieges kept me a far away from Coruscant. Then I saw on the HoloNews that she was pregnant. I wasn't even aware that she was married. I had missed my chance and so had tried to forget. After the Jedi and Navy purges at the end of the Clone War I tried to forget a lot of things but Tarkin found me and assigned me to the Subterrel. There I found the Kallidahin. They told me that she had indeed been on their satellite home and had given birth to twins before passing away. Renegade Jedi had somehow been involved and had taken her body away."

"Twins! I have a brother and sister?"

"Perhaps. I never found any record of them after that but they should be quite a few months older than you by now. I was heart-broken at your mother's death. But more than that I couldn't let her light fade from the galaxy. The Kallidahin still had several biological samples from the birth. They understood my appeal of wanting to save something that had been lost and assisted me by cloning you."

"So why the secrecy? Who were you hiding me from?"

"The Emperor himself."

"What?" Why would Palpatine care about the life of one cloned girl? The Emperor had cloned millions of troopers for his military. Why would one more clone matter in the larger picture?

"Shortly after your 'birth' two Inquisitorius arrived at my command. Their names were Malorum and Sancor. I don't expect you to recognize the names. They weren't Jedi but they had the same powers, only darker, if you can imagine. Malorum wanted to know everything about Polis Massa. He and Sancor went there several times and several prominent Kallidahin were murdered."

He paused and leaned in closer to Phasma, his story becoming a whisper, "Malorum told me that your mother had been secretly married to a Jedi knight by the name of Anakin Skywalker. At the time this meant nothing to me but soon after that Sancor revealed that Malorum had discovered that Anakin Skywalker was none other than Darth Vader."

"The Dark Lord?" Phasma gasped. Every youngling in the Old Empire knew Darth Vader. He was a creature of nightmares.

"Yes. Shortly after this revelation Sancor was gruesomely murdered on Polis Massa and Malorum was struck down on Naboo. At both sites there was evidence of a Jedi being involved. After that you remained always at my side aboard the _Quill_. Thankfully Vader never paid us a visit because you look more and more like your late mother every day."

"She really was beautiful?" Phasma asked with hope in her voice.

"More than the stars themselves. So, Polis Massa?" He asked.

"Yutu." She admitted.

"I figured Captain Yutu must have told you some of this. The Terrans would have known nothing of Polis Massa. Did he come across this on his own or did you nudge him in a certain direction?"

"He confirmed it for me. He has kept everything a secret."

"A dangerous game you two have played. I cannot stress how important it is that this remain a secret. After my passing you must be seen as my biological offspring, any doubt to that could destroy the Yos line of ascension. Do you trust Yutu?"

"Yes. The man certainly has a sense about what would happen if he betrayed us."

"Good. I know I put the fear of the Force in the boy after your capture. He won't fail me again."

There was a long pause in the conversation where Phasma studied the floor tiles of the palace. Her father waited patiently for her to come to grips with the high stakes of the truth. "It's truly us against the Galaxy isn't it, Father?"

"Yes, but if you're a good princess the beings of Mars will follow you anywhere."

"What do you require of me?" With her curiosity momentarily alleviated she found herself falling into the role of obedient daughter once more.

"I have plans within plans for us. Your Empire will rival Palpatine's someday. Have I told you about Operation _Stork_. . ." He led her away to dinner, where they spent the evening planning their revenge on Earth and the destiny of Mars.


	32. Yutu 3

Mobile Convoy One, I-70, ten miles east of Salina, Kansas, NAU, Earth

The President's convoy pulled over for a stop, just as they had every hour for the past two days. A nondescript van in his column of vehicles received continuous short wave data bursts from multiple areas around the Union and the stop allowed it to send the new data it had collected to multiple laptops and computers in the convoy. Several MOPP-suited squads of soldiers spread out into the dying Kansas wheat fields to provide perimeter security for the halted convoy.

Outside the window of his black, armored trailer the Kansas prairie would've had the look of a wonderfully sunny spring day if the sky wasn't still full of toxic smoke from the hundreds of fires burning out west. Dead birds and insects littered the highway. Another massive smoke column ahead of them marked the grave of the nearby Fort Riley Army Base. A low pressure system over the Rockies was currently sucking in everything from the battle in the LA basin and his Secret Service detachment was concerned about a chemical plant that was burning outside of Tulsa. The sky over the midwestern state seemed a permanent, hazy brownish-orange.

His gas mask wearing National Security Adviser and the Joint Chiefs gathered together and piled into the long, air-filtered trailer that housed the President. The Secret Service agents donned their gas masks and stepped outside to make room for them all.

"What's the latest news?" President Harris asked, not knowing how much more he could take. Estimates of well over a hundred million dead Americans in the past week alone haunted what little sleep he was able to get. He felt older. His body physically ached from the anguish he felt over the horrible, fiery deaths of so many of his countrymen on his watch.

"LA is going to fall within the next few hours." The NSA stated somberly.

"It was a given. That's why we stopped trying to reinforce that bleeding sore earlier in the week." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs admitted.

"Do we have any final casualty counts?" The President asked, staring out at the decaying Kansas prairie. He feared what next year's crop yields would be like around the world. He was afraid the Union would be battling mass starvation before everything was said and done.

"No body counts yet, civilian or military, but we've lost ten whole divisions just trying to hold the place and any number of independent combat brigades."

The President tried not to wince at the Chairman's declaration. "How long before we can strike back at their beachhead?" He asked. Frightened silence met his question for several seconds until the NSA finally spoke up again.

"It could be weeks before we have the manpower in place, Mr. President. We rushed the forces into LA too quickly. As a result we suffered horrendous casualties in just reaching the city. What we didn't rush in, we massed in Upper California's Central Valley. Those are the forces we now have in place building the containment entrenchments around LA. Without them the aliens are free to roam up and down the Pacific coast, and there no telling how long it'll be before we get more forces out to the west coast again." The Joint Chief's Chairman said.

"As if trenches could truly hold a space-borne enemy. You still have no idea the new type of war that we're fighting. You Generals can't even get your men into place." The CIA Director snidely commented. The two senior officials squared off for a fight. Exactly what the President didn't have time for.

"Ok, so what's slowing us down?" he said, hoping to steer them away from each other's throats and back to the matter at hand, "What's going on with my country, Gentlemen?"

"Sir, those motherships of theirs, the so-called 'Star Destroyers', have stopped bombarding our major cities for the time being but they seem to be spreading out, taking indiscriminate shots at anything and everything. They've dropped almost every bridge and overpass between LA and the Mississippi, not to mention tunnels and railyards." The Transportation Secretary reported.

"Sir, if I may?" The usually quiet Energy Secretary interrupted from the back of the trailer.

"Go ahead Bruce." The President said over the other staffers. They turned their heads to see who was talking as most of their voices blended together underneath their masks. Harris wished he could get a better read on some of their emotions but the masks prevented it.

"Mr. President, I don't have a complete picture yet but my sources just reported that the aliens went after our refineries when they were done with the cities." A few people in the group swore quietly. There was little to nothing they could do to hide the sprawling factories used to refine America's oil supply.

"How bad?" The President asked with trepidation in his heart.

"At least eighty percent from the Gulf of Mexico to the Yukon. California and the big refineries outside of Houston are total write offs. The Mexican and Canadian plants were hit just as bad. There are also numerous reports the aliens have gone after oil tankers at sea with their starships." The Energy Secretary sorrowfully reported. "A lot of that is contributing to this god awful smoke that's choking the Union."

"So how much fuel do we have left?"

"The aliens haven't gone after the reserve sites yet. I'd estimate one to two months of fuel in the Union. I recommend suspension of all civilian traffic and only the most essential military traffic if we're to make it last." The diminutive Secretary suggested.

"God help us. Make it so." the President turned to the Joint Chairman, "Have the Armed Forces enforce those restrictions at gunpoint if you have to." He glanced outside again. "We're going to have to think about food rationing real soon as well."

"We probably will. People aren't going to like giving up their cars." the Chairman answered. "But they're going to be really pissed off when some body-armor, assault rifle carrying grunt tells them they can't buy all the Twinkies they want down at the local Quick-Stop."

The Energy Secretary looked down, signaling that he had finished delivering his bad news and the Transportation Secretary continued his report, which sounded even more solemn after the Energy Secretary's news, "We've got scattered reports that they've been going after lone semi-trucks, electrical plants of almost every type, trains, random manufacturing plants and factories, and even river and coastal barge traffic. We're quickly being reduced to almost no transportation capabilities. Besides the fuel issues, I would estimate that it would now take an east coast division three months to get to LA, and that's if they complete several major engineering and construction repairs along the way."

"What about our remaining air-lift capabilities, General?" The President asked the Air Force Major General standing inside the trailer's kitchen.

"Bad, Sir. In the past few days they've continued to keep after our larger transports, fuelers, airliners, and even our AWACS and bombers. Those space fighters of theirs, those three-winged 'X' Fighters, can dive on our planes from orbit and clear the neighborhood before our fighters can even scramble. You saw the footage those news cameras took of the wreckage of Air Force One in Michigan." The Air Force Chief reported. "The flight crew never even had a chance to parachute to safety."

"They're adapting quicker than we are. They've got somebody really good in Intelligence too," The CIA Director said, "Whoever he is, he's gunning for you. We've got reports from ECHELON that some of the top leadership is being taken out. Premier Dukou of China reportedly passed away this morning from wounds sustained during the alien attack on Beijing." The President snapped his neck around at the news. He had heard the Premier was injured, but didn't know the severity of it until now. "El Presidente down south has been making his broadcasts, you know the ones, he made them during our little war with them. Anyways, after almost every one of his tirades the aliens blow the crap out of his broadcasting towers. Even after all this he's still offering to send as many divisions as he can north to our aid."

"Take them, if they can get here, and use them wherever they're needed. What about the civilians?" He asked his cabinet members. He could feel his frustration starting to settle in his bones. Several of the cabinet members at the back of the vehicle tried to appear invisible.

Finally the Director of FEMA spoke up, "It's as bad as I've ever seen, over one hundred Union cities blasted from existence. Those who chose to stay or waited too long to evacuate paid for their procrastination and stubbornness. We've got refugee camps popping up all over the Union. The three biggest are outside of Chicago, Mexico City, and that one in New Jersey. You saw how many refugees were in Camp Chicago. The problem is that we've got no way to feed them. The same problem the army has with moving tanks and bullets, we've got with moving food and clean water. Several of my relief convoys have been attacked."

"It's true, Mr. President," The Army Chief of Staff added, "There was almost an outright battle outside the wreckage of Atlanta this morning. Georgia National Guard troops were called in to put it down. There was a . . . _significant_ amount of casualties."

"We've had a report of several Alaskan National Guard troops under a Colonel Palin breaking contact with our regular command. It seems like they're sitting on some food and fuel up there and they don't want to share." The Vice-President warned.

"That's just a rumor. Don't let any of that nonsense get out." The President growled as his frustration grew. It was bad enough he had to fight an alien invasion, he didn't want to add wide-spread insurrection to his problems as well. He turned to his Secretary of State, "What of our allies, any word of when we'll get more troops from them?"

"I'm still going over my latest ECHELON encryptions but it looks like the Europeans are backing out. They've got the same transportation problems we do but they're claiming, with the fact that Shanghai fell faster than LA, that the threat from Asia is greater. They're holding their armies to repel the invaders on the steppes if the aliens blast past the Asians. The Russians and the Indians are giving their aid to the ChiComs as well, at least what they can get there. China and India are claiming a loss of half a billion people between them. . ."

The Secretary of State interrupted the CIA Chief, "There's also a new development in Japan and Australia, and our friends in the Philippines and Indonesia are backing them up. Something is going on in the Pacific."

The President tried not to look shocked as he read the eyes of his commanders. By their expressions they hadn't known of any actions in the Pacific, either. There had been scattered reports of the mass sinking of naval vessels, but the aliens had gone after those all around the world. He remembered reading a report that Honolulu had been bombarded in the initial attack, but given the overwhelming scale of the global destruction he hadn't given it a second thought. He hadn't heard anything else about it since.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, has anyone heard anything from PACOM or any other source in Hawaii over the past week?" He could feel his rising ire begin to boil when nobody said a word so he added, "People, if I've lost a state, I'd like to know, gawdammit!"

"Sir, we'll have an answer in an hour at your next stop. It's just that signal traffic has been a little...tricky out that way, what with the aliens jamming everything and all the west coast cities that were hit." The CIA Director assured him before turning and barking orders out the window at several of his agents, who quickly scrambled to follow orders.

The President knew it was almost time to get on the road again; the enemy had taken to roaming freely over his country, taking pot shots at semi-trucks and large convoys of vehicles such as his. "My God, People!" He roared. "We stop again in one hour. We've lost millions of our countrymen and now possibly Hawaii as well as Los Angeles. When we come together again I want ideas for how we can start to hit the enemy where it hurts. Dammit, the Earth will strike back!"

**SigInt Branch, Tarkin Tower, Culter City, Mars**

Even millions of kilometers away from combat Captain Yutu felt like he was in the thick of the action. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back on the observation deck overlooking his intelligence gathering empire.

The softly red-lit room was staffed with almost a hundred of the best electronic warfare and signal interception troopers the New Empire fielded. Dozens of agents and technicians manned the stations and zipped this way and that in an effort to form a clearer picture of what was happening with the war on Earth. Aides brought datafiles and holopads full of information to the stations below his, where Lieutenant Commander Knebler and Major Murp filtered the avalanche of data for him.

The centerpiece of the room was a large holoprojector of Earth, showing in minute detail the position of each starship in _Tarkin's Fist_ in orbit around the green and blue world. He stared at it for a second, noting that the highest concentration of warships still remained around Targets East and West. That would change soon, when Moff Kuat's little gifts arrived dirtside. Then those vessels would be free to spread out and inflict further damage on the enemy world. Some would even help him in his more pressing quest; the hunt for the President of the North American Union.

Captain Yutu, despite his expertise in spy craft, had a mind like an engineer. If you wished to open something you found an appropriate spot and applied the minimum amount of force necessary to achieve your goal. Possibly the spot was between two ribs and the force applied was via the tip of a vibroblade, or between two warring planets and applied via a Sector Army, but the important thing was to find that one weak spot which would be the key to everything.

President Harris of the North American Union had been deemed by Naval Intelligence units to be the most dangerous leader to have escaped the opening bombardment of Earth. Several other leaders were still breathing and they were on his list as well, just further down. Seven hours had passed since the last sighting of the President's convoy in some place called Kansas. He had dispatched a TIE/WAC to the place but the President had had a sufficient head start to avoid detection this time.

He wondered if he shouldn't contact the local house of the Bounty Hunter's Guild. He knew several members of the Ragnor Syndicate and the Skine Bounty Hunter's College had made it through the 'big jump' with the rest of _Tarkin's Fist._ They had merged into a new Martian Syndicate that up until now battled over the slim pickings of jobs on Mars. How much would they fierfek up a mission off-world, he thought. This 'President' was proving to be as slippery as a Gelgelar eel.

Yutu had thought they got him when they had located the last of the airspeeders dubbed "Air Force One" over the NAU state of Michigan in the early morning hours a few days ago. He had quickly ordered a flight of ARC-170s to intercept but only an hour after they had shot the craft down SigInt units had picked up radio emissions between the President and some of his top aides.

That his opponent was crafty wasn't in doubt. In fact it had earned him some respect from Yutu. It was the fact that he continued to rally his people and order his troopers to continue to resist the New Empire that earned him Yutu's scorn.

Lieutenant Commander Knebler's presence jostled him from his thoughts. "Sir," Knebler pushed a series of commands on a holoprojection on the wall of his observation deck. A large map of the area surrounding Target West appeared. "We have confirmation of the presence of units from the PLA's 16th and 39th Group Armies now in the areas around Target West. It seems like the Chinese are moving a large amount of troops out of their Shenyang Military District to counter us."

"That's the area they use to counter the Russians and Koreans correct?"

"Roger, roger, Sir. We've also got orbital images of both of those countries' land forces crossing the borders with Chinese assistance. The large Indian Army to the south is still maintaining its position and fortifying the Himalayas." Knebler reported as icons lit up across the holoimager as he spoke.

"Good, forward that to Moff Seco. Hopefully he can launch a few spoiler bombardments on those Chinese troops. Have the forward observers identify the most likely crossings the Russians and Koreans are using and mark them for orbital strikes."

"Aye Aye, Sir." Knebler turned and went back to his station. Murp came up the steps right after his superior vacated them. The HoloImager changed once more.

"Captain, this is the site of the largest refugee camp we could find." A live-feed HoloImage appeared of a tent-city outside of a large crater that used to be the city of Chicago. "Estimates are of almost two and a half million beings in the camp, bigger than anything I know of, even from the Clone War."

"That sounds about right." Yutu agreed. Refugee camps from the larger war back in the Home Galaxy that had initiated the Old Empire had been spread out amongst thousands of planets, diluting the massive amount of human debris caused by that great conflict. "Defenses?"

"Light. There are some militia units guarding the food distribution centers and a water treatment facility, as well as a few anti-airspeeder slugthrowers, but that's about it. Every few hours we've noticed the presence of armored landspeeders that protect their supply convoys and a few chopters in the area, as well. They've marked the area with these big red symbols that look like an aurabesh _vev_ and _trill_ smashed together. Evidently those mean they are medical facilities and by their rules of warfare we're not to attack them." Murp explained.

"Maybe so, we'll pass that on to Moff Seco as well, let him decide what he wants to do about the place. It's too far away to pose a threat to Target East but at the same time it could make a tempting target for the forces conducting Operation _Piper_ in the Pacific. We'll probably sit on it for now." Murp nodded in agreement. His job was to pass on intelligence, not to shape orders that would cost millions of beings their lives.

"Sir," A female Falleen Lieutenant got his attention. Yutu waved for her to go ahead. "Sir, he's broadcasting again, El Presidente of the Union of South American Nations. The _Battle of Qalydon_ and TIE/WAC _Besh_ are both intercepting the signal and relaying back to us."

"Put it up on the main audicaster." he quickly ordered, turning to shift his attention to the sound devices implanted in the ceiling above. The main holoprojector in the room changed to display an image of the lesser continental mass of the Earth as it tried to locate the source of the broadcast.

A strangely accented voice cut over the din of the room, overlaid a few moments later by a generated voice offering an incomplete translation of the Presidente's words into Galactic Basic Standard, "...and that is why _mis compadres_, _mi familia_, we will never bow down to these oppressive murderers from the stars. We shall instead link hands with our brothers and sisters around the Earth and drive these invaders off of our sacred soil.

We know the aliens haven't landed in South America because they are afraid of us. Instead they cower like dogs, firing on us from their space platforms."

Yutu cracked a smile at El Presidente's posturing. The reason the Empire hadn't invaded the South Americans yet was because they weren't considered a threat. But have no worries, El Presidente, you are also on the list.

"If they come here the spirit of the people of South America will drive them from our shores. At this moment our brave soldiers stand ready to fight these baby-killers from space. I have let old slights and misunderstandings with our cousins around the world be resolved and have ordered our _soldados_ to go north and help the gringos in _NorteAmerica_ force these aliens back into whatever hell they came from," Yutu raised an eyebrow at that declaration but continued to listen.

"I know they are frightened of us. They have done their best to try to kill me and _mi familia, mis ninos_. After I broadcast this message of hope to you, my freedom-loving people, I have no doubt that the station this signal emanates from will be destroyed from space. But I say let the aliens come down and fight us like men, not the cowards they have shown themselves to be. They may have destroyed our cities. But they can never destroy our spirit!" The South American politician shouted.

"Challenge accepted." Yutu said to himself.

"Commander," Knebler came bounding back up the steps, "Forward this last transmission to the Theater Commander. Tell Moff Seco that I recommend a limited Base Delta Zero operation on the area called Central America. Let's see if 'El Presidente' can shift any troops north after we turn everything from Guatemala to Panama into molten glass."

"It will be done, Captain."

"Sir," Murp called out. Yutu nodded for him to go ahead, "As suspected, they used one of the towers outside the remains of Target Bogota. The local observation squad, Storm Commando Team Delta-Eleven, has a confirmation of a convoy of vehicles that were at the site only an hour before hand. They are currently tracking the convoy several dozen kilometers to the south of the broadcasting source. The _Battle of Qalydon_ is also reporting a successful orbital strike on the tower after it ceased its signal." Yutu smirked a little when he realized the enemy's prophecy had come true.

"Order Delta-Eleven to get an identity confirmation on El Presidente and remind them they have a standing kill order on the male." He didn't know all of the methods they employed but he knew they were deadly. He smiled at the thought of the four storm commandos stealthily stalking their prey through the jungles of Earth below. Soon the scum that ran South America would learn the price of running his mouth too much.

"Aye, Aye, Sir." Murp responded before returning to his duties.

His attention shifted as two more icons lit up on the large map reader. One more NAU division had been identified moving into position around Target East while another island fell to the forces conducting Operation _Piper_ in the Pacific. More slaves for the New Empire he reminded himself. Even after twelve years in the Imperial Navy he still was uneasy at the readiness of the Empire to use sentient beings as chattel. He hoped it was only a temporary need to get the New Empire on its feet.

The new war's pace was starting to accelerate with multiple landing points, bombardment targets, and operations occurring simultaneously all over the enemy planet. His Fleet Intelligence operatives were starting to feel the stress and anxiety of their jobs, and it was only going to get more intense as the battles escalated on every front.

He looked at the map reader again out of habit and noticed immediately that something was wrong. He slammed his fist down loudly on the railing in front of him causing many of the agents in the room to jump. It wasn't often that he openly showed his displeasure.

"Murp, get on the comm to FleetOps, Tell them to notify TIE/WAC _Grek_ that there is a flight of almost forty enemy airspeeders from New Zealand that are about an hour south of _Sarlaac_ Legion's positions on Samoa. I don't see any of our airspeeders being scrambled to deal with the threat." He ordered across the intelligence center, perturbed that he was the one who had discovered the danger. His team of SigInt troopers should have picked up the mistake before it came to his attention.

"Aye, aye, Sir." Murp dutifully reported. Several minutes later a flight of twenty V-19 Torrents were moving to intercept the threat. Yutu kept tabs on them as they started the engagement well out of range of the Earthling's primitive slugthrowers. The snub nose fighters knocked half of the enemy's fighters from the air before they ever knew the Torrents were in the neighborhood.

Yutu wondered what type of catastrophe he had averted this time. Most of his staff avoided his gaze as the one-sided fight on another world ended. Hopefully he had put enough fear in them not to overlook a mistake like that one twice.

The day went on and on. He took in endless cups of caf and ate both his lunch and a dinner of nerfchops while at his duty station. His duties included perusing thousands of mundane reports from the field as well as from the homefront. He tried to memorize production reports that the guard force of Concentration Camp 1138 had sent him so he could pull them from his mind whenever they were called for. He was pleased that hypermatter production would be underway soon and that the workforce of loyal Martian Imperial workers had doubled in the past week at Moff Kuat's orbital dockyards.

His pleasure turned to concern when he read another report that Moff Culter's terraforming efforts out on the plains of Mars had failed yet again to warm the red planet more, even with the influx on new slaves literally killing themselves to dig heating vents into the crust of Mars. Some of them had frozen to death at the northern pole where the Anoat Moff had thousands of them trying to cover the icecap with heat-capturing black sand. Why Mars was so resistant to ever getting warm was beyond Yutu's imagination.

He then read a report filed by an undercover agent aboard the Orbital Laboratory _Biology_ over Mars's southern pole. The research vessel was under Moff Culter's command. Evidently the agent had discovered stark white quarters of the style found on Tipoca City on Kamino. The agent also reported infiltrating a large research section filled with several hundred cloning vats exceptionally different than the relatively few Spaarti Cloning Cylinders found in Culter City for agricultural purposes.

Rereading the report, it looked to Yutu as if he had finally located the lair of the ten Kaminoan cloners and their cloning facility. It had to have been there that the cloned Skakoan and Morseerian colonists must have been decanted before their short journey to colonize and terraform Earth 2. It wasn't a crime, in fact the Emperor had evidently ordered the expansionist move and Yutu had agreed the plan had merits. Still, the report irked him because, as Director of Intelligence for the Bureau of Operations he didn't appreciate being left out in the dark.

He quickly sent orders to the field agent to keep closer tabs on the place, as there was no telling what species the cloners would copy for the colonies the StarGate would find in the next couple of years. The Force knew they already had enough humans and Twi'leks on Mars.

He signed off on another set of orders for a dozen more agents to be infiltrated into the near-human prison camps in order to sniff out any signs of an uprising. There were several in the works, if reports from the camps were to be believed. The guard force there was executing a few hundred slaves every day just to keep the rest in line but with an average of a hundred thousand new arrivals a day, the lesson had to be taught and re-taught almost every hour.

The few empaths on his staff warned that it would be tough on them and not to be surprised if a few of the guards started to crack over the coming weeks. He sent a memo to the commandant of 1138 to make sure he was rotating his guards on a regular basis. Even though the other officer didn't fall under him in the chain-of-command, Yutu hoped he heeded his warning. He feared it would be his _shebs_ if an uprising on Mars got out of hand. It always was when something surprised the new Emperor.

He made an addendum to his orders for several hundred ground radars to be put in place around the concentration camp in case the near-human Earthlings tried to tunnel out. Though if they tried he wondered where they thought they would go; their slave chips would explode if they got too far from the camp. Even if they did make it out and somehow found their way to Culter City they would have the same problem fitting into Imperial society that his own, so far unsuccessful, spies had in trying to infiltrate life on Earth.

Knebler interrupted his thoughts with the hourly update on enemy troop movements into the areas around Targets East and West. Apparently their continued orbital bombardment had made movement on Earth even slower than Yutu had thought possible. It would be months before the Earthlings stockpiled enough weapons and troopers to stand any chance at all of forcing the Empire out of its landing zones. Not that they wouldn't try in the meantime. His job was to find out when and what they would do.

He looked over the report noting two new artillery parks around Target West and a new armored regiment around Target East that hadn't been spotted an hour ago. More Burra fish for the nets, he told himself.

A chime rang out on his datapad. He gazed down at the icon which denoted it as above Top Secret status. Not even in the confines of his private kingdom was this message safe to read. "Commander Knebler, you have the deck." he announced before spinning and heading for the turbolift.

Within minutes he was hurling skyward though the central shaft of Tarkin Tower until he was finally a hundred floors higher than he started, just outside of the Emperor's briefing room. He passed by two naval troopers who kept the room secure.

He entered the chamber with its rounded walls and plush seats designed to emulate the old Jedi Temple on Imperial Center from before the Clone Wars. He noted the echo of his footfalls in the otherwise silent space and wondered if the wide array of hidden monitoring equipment was picking it up. He moved through the empty chamber to the balcony entrance and as soon as he stepped outside he wished he had grabbed a coat before venturing into the Martian air.

From his high vantage point he looked down into the sprawling metropolis below him. To the west the grounds of the Martian Imperial Palace were still under construction and a few dozen skyscrapers in the distance competed with Tarkin Tower for dominance of the Martian skies. Great streams of airspeeders filled the skyways as evening traffic started up, their lanes even more crowded since the vast majority of civilian Imperial workers were flooding Culter City for skilled labor jobs now that the huge terraforming projects in the countryside were being filled with slaves from Earth.

He pulled out his secured datapad and inserted one of his code cylinders into the device. A sudden warm wind from the Xanthe Terra highlands promised a warm front moving in over the city, but that wasn't the reason perspiration started to bead up on his forehead.

Before he had reported to his duty station this morning he had followed orders from a higher source, someone within the Royal Family, Princess Phasma. Those orders were simple: find out who she is. The girl was the prime clone of a genetic template located most probably beyond her reach in the Old Empire but her Highness wanted to know anyways.

He had run her profile through a scanning program, based on known species, blood types, DNA sequencing, among dozens of other medical parameters. And now he accessed the program for its results. The first thing it posted was a list of logical possibilities based on a percentage of traits Phasma had with the candidate.

Yutu scanned through them quickly, noting several exceptions; a Jabiimi bounty hunter based on Teth, a Randoni CPO stationed aboard the _Devastator _in _Vader's Fist_, three Naboo handmaidens, a Druckenwellian spice trader serving time on Kessel, an adopted daughter of the Viceroy of Alderaan, a Corellian spacer based out of Nar Shaddaa, and an Aquellan HoloDrama actress. Yutu looked at each of their Holoimages and conceded that each bore an amazing likeness to the Princess. Except for the Alderaanian the rest were all at least two decades older than the princess.

He opened the next file which bore the lettering of an almost identical match. Yutu sucked in air between his teeth as he continued. He read through the file on one Padme Naberrie of Naboo. Pupils and dental matches were ninety nine point nine percent identical when compared on holoimagers. This Padme evidently had been a Senator in the Galactic Senate as well as an elected Queen with the moniker of Amidala of the planet Naboo in the Chommell Sector. Her senate records included a set of fingerprints, blood type, and DNA sequencing that were identical to Princess Phasma's. He stared at her HoloImage, taken sometime in the first year of the Clone War. It was as if he was looking at young Phasma a decade from now.

Her beauty transcended the HoloImage and it was obvious why Yos had chosen her. He wondered what she had meant to him. The more he read about her, the more he wondered if the New Emperor had ever met her. He read about her not-quite secretive pregnancy and how the HoloNews had speculated on who the father was but during this time Yos had been stationed in the Outer Rim Sieges and hadn't come close to Coruscant where this Padme served in the Senate. He was concerned when he read that she was murdered during the Jedi Uprising but noted that her death was only a few months before Phasma's birth. At just about the same time Yos had been given command of the Subterrel Fleet and the _Quill_ had been on its way to Polis Massa.

"So you told her." a voice came from behind him, shocking him from his study.

Yutu spun around to be confronted with the sight of the newly crowned Emperor of Mars. Aveo Yos stood with his arms crossed, leaning one shoulder against the doorway. Yutu spotted a pair of menacing Imperial Guardsmen standing at the ready inside the chamber, just out of earshot. He wondered how many were present that he didn't see.

Yutu didn't bother with a salute this time. Instead he dropped instantly to one knee and bowed before his Regent. Yos straightened up and walked past him until he came to the low wall that surrounded the balcony. For a long time he stared out at the capital of his small Empire.

"You have my leave to rise, Captain. Join me." Yutu obeyed and walked to the Emperor's side at the wall. The tension in the air was almost a physical entity, "She asked me not to harm you."

"That is a kindness I hope I deserve, My Lord." The kilometer long drop to the city below looked frighteningly close. Yutu's mind unwillingly recalled rumors he had heard of how Palpatine had showed his displeasure with his subordinates in the Old Empire.

"You do. You rescued her from those kriffing filthy Earth scum. They were the ones who first informed her, you know."

"I did. The Princess told me of this when she asked me to investigate her mother's identity."

"And what did you find out?"

Yutu risked it all on a name, "Padme Naberrie."

For a long time the Emperor said nothing, he had the look of someone remembering something he had lost. For a moment his face became drawn, revealing a pain which had no doubt dulled over the years but still lingered. "I remember her as Amidala...she was...something that shouldn't have been lost."

"I've seen our file on her, Your Highness. An extremely remarkable woman and politician. I could not have done better in finding a suitable genetic donor for the Princess."

"Destroy that file. And every mention of her that exists on Mars. That includes anything you have hidden away." The wind picked up, threatening to carry his Emperor's orders away. "I don't want to even see her name on a list of Galactic Senators or Queens of Naboo. There should be no trace of her or hint of a trail that leads to the Princess."

"Of course. I understand then that this should be taken to the extreme limits then?" He asked, worried that the extreme limits included pitching him over the balcony.

"Yes. You're safe of course. Within an hour of my coronation I ordered my Imperial Guard to dispatch the four Naboo citizens and six Gungans who came with us during the 'big jump'. No one alive on Mars should be able to recognize the Princess as an identical copy of Amidala."

"Certainly there are veterans of the Clone War by the tens of thousands on Mars and fighting on Earth. What if one of them should recognize her when she starts to come of age?" Yutu asked.

"Some might. Padme was a popular Senator and spent some time at the front, but that was over a decade ago. Memories will fade, beings will shrug it off as a passing resemblance if they think of it at all."

"And if they don't?"

"If they don't, that is where you come in. As the only non-family member who is privy to this secret your fortunes rise and fall with the Imperial Family. Rest assured that if this tale ever gets out you will not live to see another sunset. Promise or no promise to my daughter." Yos calmly said as the local star dipped below the horizon. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Aye aye, Sir." Yutu responded uneasily, knowing that for the rest of his life he would never know when the ax would fall.


	33. SF4738  3

Highway 400, Holly, Colorado, NAU, Earth

The President looked out at the small Colorado town just four miles west of the Kansas border. He doubted that before the war there were more than a thousand souls living here. Now there were about eight times that amount crammed into the small prairie village. He hoped that after the war there'd still be someone alive to inhabit the town.

The seams of the window he was peering out of were covered in thick duct tape in an effort to prevent too many toxins from entering the President's room. The air outside was still thick with hazardous smoke despite a strong wind blowing out of the nearby Rocky Mountains. Yet despite this refugee trailers and large tents were set up in the town's few parks and local high school parking lot. Most of the people who had come here in the past week were former residents of Denver but some claimed to have come from as far south as Albuquerque and El Paso.

Gas rationing was already in effect across the Union but even if the Army's enforcement of it wasn't having any effect the shortages certainly were. In the past day he could count the number of civilian vehicles his convoy had encountered on one hand. The town of Holly lay in the heart of the eastern Colorado prairie and as such was surrounded by miles and miles of farmland. Farmland that until recently had been maintained by tractors. Tractors that required fuel that was nonexistent in this part of the country. The mayor of Holly had struck a deal with the refugees who passed through his town. If they helped with the harvest and became field hands, Holly would share their supplies and food with them. Any surplus would then be sent west to feed the Army.

Hundreds had originally scoffed at the idea, city-slickers unwilling to get their hands dirty with menial labor, but thousands of others had stayed. With the citizens of Holly's backing the refugees had spread out till there was almost a dozen of them living on every farm, learning an existence their ancestors had probably taken for granted.

He had his doubts about the plan as he peered across the barren highway at the tent city. The few refugees that were out of their shelters wore gas masks and were lined up at a tanker truck. By the way they were all carrying empty plastic bottles he figured the tanker must be carrying purified water. Beyond them lay rotting fields of sugar beets and winter wheat that had been planted earlier in the spring. In several places amongst the decaying crops the bloated carcasses of cows and pigs rotted away. No doubt the livestock had succumbed to some of the more severe, man-made toxins swirling in the breeze. Harris wondered how many of the refugees would stay on once they realized how little of a crop Holly was going to harvest this year.

Not that he was completely soured on the idea, the President approved of anything that got people putting the Union back together again. He wanted more than anything to help his people back on their feet. Some of his National Guard scouts told him that it was much the same in the towns they were coming across. People were trying to rebuild factories and were returning to the fields in an effort to make the North American Union strong again. No matter how long it took.

Several of those scouts raced out of town on Kawasaki dirt bikes to recon routes west of the small town. The Rockies were just barely visible on the western horizon and reports were that some of the passes through the mountain range were clogged with spring avalanches. Roads that should have been maintained were disturbed by the loss of so many young men and women into the armed forces. Almost every able body was being thrown into uniform. Those who couldn't fight would attempt to rebuild and farm.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs approached the President when he emerged into the small Motel 6 lobby he had stayed in the night before. "We'll be sending out a few vehicles at a time. Space them out every fifteen minutes or so to give them a better chance to go unnoticed by those damn Star Destroyers."

The President nodded. Reports across the Union were that the Imperial spacecraft had started hunting down every semi-trailer or large convoy of vehicles they could find, no doubt in an effort to grind the Union to a shuddering halt. They decided that it was best that his convoy move in staggered groups to avoid detection. "Any word from our boys out west?"

"Should be anytime now. Both the north and south pockets were destroyed yesterday evening. Our last toehold along the eastern border of the city is, at last report, down to a couple of thousand defenders. Most of them are short on ammo. We've got deserters attempting to cross the no-man's-land between our containment positions outside the city and LA battle zone. Lots of civilians and soldiers alike are willing to risk that laser bombardment just to get away from the Imperials." The Joint Chief told him.

"It sounds horrible." It felt like a kick to the guts. He was about to become the first President since James Madison fled Washington ahead of the British to lose an American city to an invader.

"Like a Sci-Fi version of Stalingrad."

"How about the civilian population of the city?" Harris asked staring across the highway at the tent city where a few refugees were starting to cook their meager breakfasts. He wondered how long it would be before those carcasses in the fields made their way into their cooking pots.

"There's no way of knowing how many fled before the attack or were caught up in the battle. Several accounts from soldiers in the field suggest that civilian fighters joined them in the defense. Other reports indicate that a lot of them may have dug in and hoped that the battle passed them by. Special Forces Command left dozens of teams behind as the Army fell back. Their fate is in the Imperial's hands now."

The President winced, thinking of the Imperial ultimatum for millions of slaves. "If you had to guess?"

"Do you really want to know, Sir?"

"Just keep talking straight to me and we can work to win this war more effectively and hopefully with some semblance of the Union intact." The President said with a heavy sigh.

"Ok, if I had to guess I'd say four million fled for parts unknown, two to three million dead with another million wounded, with just about a million souls left inside Imperial-occupied Los Angeles without any food or potable water." The Chairman said flatly.

A slow whistle of appreciation for the sheer numbers came from behind them. Both men turned to face the Vice-President, who had arrived by small plane from the Yucatan the night before. "Mr. President, it is time that we start to make contingency plans for a possible alien breakout from the Los Angeles basin. It is my recommendation that we began a policy of scorched-earth tactics all across southern Upper California. We would starve their army in the field." The Vice-President said.

"And what of the populace still living in those areas? Our supply lines are strained to the breaking point just getting food and ammunition to the army in California. If they have to support millions of refugees as well as troops in the field the whole goddamn army would collapse." The Chairman said vehemently.

"Move them east. Put them to work rebuilding our factories back here in the Midwest or the east coast." The Vice-President argued back.

"We don't have the means to do it." Harris said, "The aliens have wrecked the rail network to hell and gone and dropped almost every bridge between the west coast and the Mississippi. I can't order those people to march east across the Mojave with summer only a few months away. It would end up being some kind of Trail of Tears all over again."

"Besides, who would we really be hurting if we scorched Upper California?" The Chairman asked.

"The Empire, of course." The Vice-President responded utterly assured of himself.

"I don't think so. You are of course aware of the conditions the Empire's Ambassador levied upon us in San Francisco?" The General queried.

"Yes. They want slaves."

"And unfortunately they seem to be getting them. Just not in California. We suspect they might be doing something out in the Pacific. We haven't heard a peep from any one in Hawaii for days and the rest of the eastern Pacific has been as quiet as a church mouse for about a week. We think the Imperials are doing their slave-raiding out there while we're distracted with Los Angeles and the Asians are focused on the Imperial landing in Shanghai. We're hoping to get some decent recon of the area shortly."

The Vice-President looked shocked at the General's statement. He looked to Harris for confirmation and The President just nodded morosely.

Harris continued "I will not leave the population of Upper California exposed. The Army is already complaining that they are having trouble dealing with the refugee issue. I've drafted orders to start shipping civilians north into Oregon, Washington, and British Colombia. The Secretary of Commerce has a lot of underground factories that are being laid out in that region and he's calling for a massive workforce. Moving the civilians north isn't as dangerous as east or south and it removes them from the threat of Imperial attacks from the LA basin."

"It could also prevent the aliens from turning California into a giant slave market. In a way it's a scorched-earth policy on its own." The Vice-President conceded. For a second the President could see in his VP the smarmy, bayou lawyer from Louisiana that the Vice-President had been before entering politics.

The General spoke up. "Another of their demands was for large amounts of raw material. Any policy of scorched-earth tactics would certainly leave whatever heavy metals and ore in the soil of our planet once it's been conquered. It's not as if we could remove all the iron or oil underground as we pulled back. Also, starving the enemy doesn't seem to be an option. We've picked up signs with our own telescopes that there are large-scale agricultural efforts going on on Mars. The red planet is slowly turning green. Their armies in the field are also supplied from space, not by land or sea. A supply line we can hardly touch."

"What about when they leave LA.? Can we encircle them along the coast and place them under siege?" The Vice-President asked. Harris too, leaned in to hear the General's answer.

"They seem to have no concern for our interstates and highways. They drop bridges and overpasses every day with no regard to future use by Imperial forces. Once they are out of LA and in the field it is the Defense Department's view that they will continue to be supplied from space and the possibly thousands or millions of worlds in the 1st Galactic Empire."

"What about water? It's not like Upper California has that much. Surely the Empire's soldiers need to drink, Couldn't we poison the aquifers and wells as we fall back?" The Vice-President asked.

"I'm going to stop you there, John. I'm not sure what the Imperials drink but if they're starting their own agricultural efforts on Mars then it's safe to say they have some sort of water supply. I'm not about to sign any sort of order that may in the end cause more American citizens to suffer and possibly die from malnutrition and disease once this war is over. I have seen our citizens on the roads of our great Union. They are willing to take this war to the aliens and will do whatever it takes to expel them from our planet. One day they will retake LA and it is our duty to ensure that there is still something there worth retaking." Harris said.

"I see, Sir. I only want to help win this war."

Harris put his hand on the Vice-President's shoulder. "I know you do. We all do. We only need to think of a way to stop the Imperials before the whole Earth is scorched."

**Half Kilometer west of I-215, Colton, Upper California, NAU, Earth**

The veteran stormtrooper platoon sergeant knew more about slugthrowers than any being ever had the right to. He mused on that thought as he hunkered behind a huge berm of what the local abos called 'concrete'. Crowded around him, seeking whatever cover they could, was the rest of 3rd Platoon.

SF-4738 spent his time refilling his tibanna charges and signaling for his troopers to spread out so that they made less of a target. The younger troopers always wanted to clump together whenever the platoon came to a halt. Beside him Lieutenant Mahan scanned the ground ahead of them with a macroperiscope.

A sudden crack and explosion down the line sent several of his troopers sprawling. The abos had a slugthrower that blasted thermal detonator slugs that were programmed to explode at various distances. This way they could catch unaware stormtroopers who were seeking shelter behind any variety of covers. Evidently another Earth trooper had sneaked in close with one of the ugly slugthrowers and delivered a slug.

His boys were equipped with some damn fine thermal sights in their buckets, but SF-4738 had seen time and time again that the troopers preferred their mark-one eyeballs to their HUDs. Hopefully this hundredth sneak attack of the morning would finally drill into his platoon the need to use all of their advantages. The few troopers who were hit got to their feet again and maintained their cover but one of them waved an arm and called for a medic. The earthling weapons were usually nothing more than a nuisance, but throw enough shrapnel around and something was bound to work its way into the chinks of some unlucky stormtrooper's armor.

SF-4738 crawled over to the wounded trooper to see if he was alright. He recognized the wounded trooper as TF-9980, one of his veterans. Blood trickled out from the body glove around his elbow, turning his forearm and power-glove a shiny red. Two medics came forward at a crouch with a repulsor stretcher.

"He doesn't need that. He can walk, but he needs to get back to the aid station." SF-4738 told the senior corpsman. The medic nodded in understanding. The trooper's buddies helped him to his knees. SF-4738 patted the young trooper's good shoulder, "You'll live 9980. Don't waste too much time on your _shebs_ back at the aid station. Get back here soon so you can get a little revenge on the kriffing scum who blasted you."

The trooper gave a nervous laugh and then followed the medics back to the rear. SF-4738 watched him as he went, then his eyes panned from the backs of the three stormtroopers to the gathering of Walkers that was happening to their rear. The monstrous AT-ATs towered over the rubble of the flattened city. Their cockpits swung back and forth as their crews held their blasts in anticipation of the push forward that would come soon enough.

He hadn't even heard the walker's approach over the din of the nearby orbital bombardment. The remaining few thousand earthling defenders had been pushed into a corridor only a couple hundred meters wide, trapped between the advancing stormtroopers and the molten ground of the turbolaser-created no-beings-land.

Intelligence and his own scout troopers had told him and the Loot that the earthlings were cut off from larger fortifications on the other side of the molten hell behind them. Reports from prisoners were that they hadn't received reinforcements in three days and food and ammo for their slugthrowers was starting to run short. SF-4738 had no doubts that by sunset the New Empire would be calling 'endex' on Target East.

He crawled on all fours back over to Mahan's position. The abos had a powerful sniper rifle out there somewhere that would crack your neck something fierce if you stuck your bucket too high into the air.

"E chu ta!" Mahan proclaimed peering through the sighting device, "Got him."

"That grenadier?" SF-4738 asked as he pulled out his vibrobayonet to sharpen. Hand-to-hand fighting with these abos was tough and he had already lost one trooper who had gone into a habitat rubble pile all alone. SF-4738 had found the poor boy with a primitive abo blade shoved in his armpit where he had evidently bled out.

"Yeah, 6758 just sniped him as he was moving to a new position. Got him with his DLT-19 through a couple of decimeters of that weak 'concrete' they use." The officer explained.

"Good lad. 6758 was one of the boys who went through that sniper training academy on Mars before we shipped out a few months back." SF-4738 checked his platoon locator tabs on his HUD and noted that EZ-6758 was still scanning for targets with his thermal sights operational. These near-humans around here didn't wear thermal dissipating cloaks like rebel commandos were reported to don back in the Old Empire. SF-4738 figured the abos probably hadn't even invented them yet.

"Sarge, you want to tell the boys that the limmie ball is gonna drop in about half an hour."

"Will do, Sir." SF-4738 responded to the eager, young officer, "What's the game plan?"

"The TIEs and the Walkers will flatten them. Their remaining lines aren't that thick anymore so we're to go straight at them."

"Even a Gamorrean would see that one coming, Loot." the veteran sergeant griped as he tilted up his bucket and spat onto the concrete dust underneath him.

"Probably, but Intel is saying they're low on ammo and they're sheltering a bunch of their civilians in their lines..."

"Fierfek, Sir. We've got a kriffing hell of a lot of their civilians in our own fraking lines." As the Imperial front lines had pushed further and further into their foothold, Earthlings had appeared all along their rear areas. Thousands of civilians who had dug in and hid while the battle had passed them by seemed to have come out from underneath almost every pile of rubble they conquered.

Most of them shied away from the stormtroopers and tried their hardest not to be noticed. Hundreds more took to begging; food and water seemed to be their biggest needs, especially after the Empire and the retreating earthlings had done their best to smash the large aquifer that ran into the city. Medical supplies were another concern. The Imperials made it clear that they weren't sharing, and in the rear areas of Target East the corpses of looters filled several ditches still smoking from the blaster bolts that had cut them down.

SF-4738 was concerned when he heard from another NCO that several units had been slow coming up to the front because they had to engage abos who blasted at them from hidden womp rat nests with their slugthrowers, as the stormtroopers moved up to the front. He was relieved when he heard that those areas that rose up were violently put down, with no quarter given.

For the most part the civilian population of Target East was ignored. The only time he had seen anyone involved with the civilians was when he had gone to the rear the day before and saw a small column of evidently pregnant female abos under heavy guard being loaded aboard hovertrucks and taken west. He had wondered what that was about but the pressing concerns of his platoon were more important than investigating further.

"I know, Sarge. Command won't say squat if we blast any of them who get in our way." He pointed at a group of abos that squatted in the rubble fifty meters behind his platoon. The displaced civilians made sure they stayed well clear of his medical and supply stormtroopers, "Looking at them, it's like they're studying us. Gives me the creeps."

"We should be fine, Loot. I haven't heard of anyone losing a trooper to an abo beggar yet. They probably can't put up more than a tenth of the fight that their own troopers did."

"Speaking of them," A whirring sound rose from their rear. "That's got to be that platoon of ImpTanks we're supposed to be attached to. I want the boys to stick close to them, keep any enemy hunter/killer teams off of them." The big _1-H_ _Imperial_-class Hovertanks rolled to a stop behind a collapsed grocery store-petroleum 'fuel' station hybrid near his own platoon. SF-4738 spotted one of his corporals yelling directions at the lead driver to get the armor vehicles into position.

SF-4738 didn't like the idea of his troopers getting too close to the slug-magnets. Unlike battles with separatists or rebels, the enemy infantry seemed to pour every ineffectual slug they had into the Walkers and the hovertanks. It was as if they forgot that the stormtroopers were around whenever one of the larger vehicles got their attention.

"Do me a favor and make sure the Boys are ready, Sarge." Mahan ordered as he continued to study the battlefield ahead of them.

SF-4738 nodded and crawled away from his young commander. He made his way down the line of stormtroopers, stopping here and there to make sure each of his troopers had enough ammo and were staying alert. His platoon was already down sixteen wounded troopers due to impact wounds from kinetic slugthowers, and another two who had been killed in action two days prior. Both of them had been lost to impacts with the abos heavier, anti-tank slugthrowers. When they couldn't scratch the AT-ATs the Earthlings had caught two of his boys in the open with their big slugs. The new stormtrooper armor could stop a verpine shattergun but a bigger weapon designed to punch through their weak form of durasteel could certainly make a stormtrooper sit up and take notice.

His knees and boots crunched through the shattered glass of a primitive rubble pile that at one point seemed to have been part of an electronic holoimager store. His heavy E-Web gunners had emplaced themselves inside the pile and turned it into a formidable strongpoint. The corpses of several dozen abos rotted in the sun a few hundred meters from the position, testifying to the futility of getting too close to the imperial stormtroopers.

SF-4738 crawled inside and sat down next to two troopers manning a PLX-2M. Outside of the pile more companies of stormtroopers filed into position for the morning assault. Dust and small pieces of rubble started to shift and fall from the makeshift bunker as the Walkers approached their jump-off points. SF-4738 knew the abos could see them as well and would be ready when the attack went in.

JN-6166 sat on his left, whittling a piece of charred wood with his vibroblade, "Let me guess, Sarge, we're going straight at them again."

"That's the order. The old Gamorr Flank tactic, straight up the middle. This should be the last one for Target East; at least that's what the officers are saying." SF-4738 responded to his veteran trooper's hidden gripe.

His buddy, HF-3105, lifted his bucket and spat on the ground in disgust, "That's what they've been saying for seven days. Weren't we supposed to take this city in three? Poodoo officer scum." He swore as he put his bucket back into place.

"No one knows how to do officering, Thad," JN-6166 used HF-3105's given name, SF-4738 couldn't fault him on it, as they'd been serving together for a long time. "That's why they are officers. If they knew anything, they'd be sergeants."

SF-4738 snorted. "That's about right. Attack is going in in about fifteen minutes. Most of the other boys will be on armor support. You scum follow right on their heels with your heavy blasters. Whole thing should be over in about an hour. You troopers need anything? More Tibanna? Water?"

"No, we're astral, Sarge." JN-6166 answered for the other troopers inside the bunker. Already the E-Web gunners were dismantling their weapons for quick transport.

"We'll be there, Sarge." HF-3105 gave him a little extra assurance.

SF-4738 backed up feet first out of the low bunker and back into the concrete berms that protected the remainder of his platoon. While he had been inside the bunker the platoon's position behind the berm had become over-crowded with reinforcements for the last push. To his right another platoon of _1-H_ Hovertanks floated into their ready position, while a company of AT-ST crossed through the berm and started to engage targets between the lines.

The stormtrooper NCO risked a quick peek and spotted several of the abo pickets falling back to their lines while the chicken-walkers raced along the length of the earthling's makeshift front line.

Suddenly there was a popping noise as several air burst mortar shells erupted over his platoon's head. Mortars were nothing more than a nuisance, the concussion of their bursts could do little more than toss around a trooper or shake them up a bit. At the most there had been some ruptured eardrums, and lung and bowel damage, but he didn't know of any company that reported a fatality from the tube launchers.

"Just a spoiling attack, boys. Nothing to worry about." He reassured the stormtroopers around him. Strange the shells were bursting so high off the ground, he thought, when he noticed several small oily droplets fall on his left forearm armor. His gaze went skyward as he searched through the smoke filled atmosphere for signs of rainclouds in the relatively sunny skies.

"Sarge, look at the abos!" one of his trooper's voice cut across the internal speakers of his helmet. SF-4738 turned to the trooper who called for his attention and was surprised to see the man was pointing to their own rear. He whipped around in that direction.

Thirty meters away he saw the abos who had been watching their preparations were all now laying prone on the ground. For a second he thought they were trying to hide from the incoming mortar shells or that an overhead burst had killed them, but then he looked closer. One or two of the earthlings still flopped around, experiencing convulsions that gave the bodies the impression that they were being electrified. Vomit and blood seeped from the orifices of the other dead abos.

"Gas, gas, gas!" He started to scream across both his internal commo and external speakers just as an icon appeared on his HUD indicating the presence of a chemical agent in contact with his armor's indicators.

His head swiveled back and forth and he almost stood up and exposed himself to enemy fire in his search for any of his boys that had been stricken by the new attack.

Thirty meters away several of his troopers crouched over the prone form of a body in white armor. They frantically waved in his direction as calls for a field medic came across the commo. SF-4738 scrambled over to them on all fours. The sight that greeted him was disheartening.

Several of the downed trooper's squad mates worked on the convulsing man as a medic arrived and hurriedly slipped a rebreather over his face. SF-4738 kept other curious troopers from getting too close and let the medic try to do his work but the NCO could already tell it was too late. Black blood oozed from the suddenly unmoving stormtrooper's nose, ears, and eyes. Vomit started to cake and dry on his cheeks from where he had lost control of his stomach when he fell.

The medic stopped working and looked up at SF-4738. He shook his head to indicate that there wasn't anything more he could do. SF-4738 lost the fourth stormtrooper killed under his command since they had gone dirtside on this backwater mudball. SF-4738 felt a ball of white, hot rage boiling up in his core. He fought to contain it because right then he knew his boys needed him to.

"He had his helmet off, Sarge." A trooper piped in, trying to explain why his friend had been lost. "Said he was adjusting his ear pieces before we attacked just as those airbursts blew up over our heads."

SF-4738 just nodded and put his hand around the young trooper's shoulders, letting him know there wasn't anything he could have done to prevent his friend's passing.

"That doesn't make sense, Sarge." Another trooper added from down the trench, his voice louder, trying to overcome the banging pops of incoming conventional mortar rounds that were landing further to the rear. "I had my helmet off when they burst, too. I was trying to finish a MPET."

The NCO recognized the trooper who had spoken. "You're a Duro, right?"

"Yep, born and raised in the back alleys of Ranadaast, Sarge. Why?" The trooper asked, and then he answered his own question almost immediately. "You think their chems are set to kill only near-humans?"

"Probably a lot of the local wildlife as well. I wonder what other species are immune to the junk?" SF-4738 didn't have any time to further ponder the mystery as the nearest 1-H hovertank suddenly roared its fusion engine to life and glided up and over the berm. Dozens of other tanks followed as the final assault on the last defenders of Target East began.

"Let's go Boys!" Lieutenant Mahan yelled from down the line, doing his best to impersonate SF-4738, The Sergeant grinned at the comparison. "You troopers want to live forever?"

SF-4738 was pretty sure he did, but he picked himself up and led a dozen troopers over the berm and into place in the rear of the hovertanks. Return fire peppered the AT-AT walkers as they lurched forward in support of the attack. The mechanical rhythm of machine-slugthrowers opened up from the enemy lines. Their slugs rattled by the thousands off the sides of the hovertanks and surrounding rubble. The Stormtroopers went to ground almost immediately before jumping up and charging forward again behind their armor support.

Ahead of them the ground erupted in blue-hued explosions as several flights of TIE/sa bombers dropped their sticks of proton bombs on the heads of the defending Terrans. The _1-H_ in front of SF-4738 came to a stop as its heavy laser cannon sent a large bolt towards an enemy machine slugthrower nest. The aural dampeners in his bucket struggled to save his ears from the din and crash of the battle.

Two walkers passed slowly through his platoon as they pressed forward. Slugs again rained down after impacting the hull of the AT-ATs as his troopers kept one eye on the battle and the other eye trained upwards to avoid being stepped on. On his flanks, squads moved by rushes, several troopers blasting away at enemy fortifications while other troopers moved forward to the next cover they could find. The next moment the hundreds of squads moving forward in this manner would switch roles as the two sets of lines closed together.

Between the lines hidden anti-trooper mines exploded, sending dozens of stormtroopers sprawling. The most infuriating type the sergeant noted were the ones that bounced up to waist level and then exploded. He shuddered when he thought of the wound they would have created were the troopers not well-armored. More of those strange, exploding grenade slugs burst amongst his troopers, who mostly ignored the weapons as they advanced. The worst part of the mines and grenades the enemy threw was their shrapnel worked itself into the cracks and joints of the armor the stormtroopers wore. It took an amazing amount of luck or skill to hit the body glove and penetrate a moving stormtrooper with a slugthrower but anything that threw shrapnel around replaced skill with a whole Walker full of luck.

SF-4738 was moving forward when he suddenly felt as if a Reek kicked him squarely in the chest plate. The breath was violently knocked from his lungs and he was picked up and thrown backwards a couple of meters where he landed squarely on his _shebs_. A large black scar was burned into the camouflage pattern of his chest plate, showing where the slug of an abo sniper rifle had caught him. He knew the earthlings sported several large caliber models of the weapon but this was the first time he had experienced one personally. He silently mouthed a thanks to Moff Kuat for designing the new anti-slugthrower armor.

Two pairs of hands were suddenly under his arms, hauling him to his feet as waves of stormtroopers charged forward all around him. SF-4738 stretched cautiously and felt for any broken ribs. "Come on, Sarge. Can't have you loafing around all day." JN-6166's electronically amplified voice laughed at him over his helmet's speakers.

"Emperor Yos saw you sitting down like that he'd make you an officer, and then where would we be?" HF-3105 laughed. The two of them carried the sections of their PLX-2M on their backs, and sported DLT-20A blaster rifles, yet had no trouble lifting SF-4738 to his feet. Underneath his helmet SF-4738 grinned as he caught his breath. Then with a wave of his E-11 the three of them moved forward again.

A _1-H_ hovertank floated past with its upper deck covered in crouching stormtroopers. A rocket shot out of the abo positions and slammed into the armored landspeeder's flank sending bits and pieces of stormies in every direction. To his left three stormtroopers charged through a wall of fire before they brought their weapons to bear on an earthling flametrooper. Their E-11's caused the enemy trooper to explode as their plasma rounds impacted with the canister on his back. Behind them Imperial troopers tried to put out a stormtrooper who had caught fire from the enemy's flamethrower.

Two hundreds meters away an explosion erupted underneath an AT-AT sending a plume of debris over a kilometer into the sky. The dust and dirt rained down across the battlefield encompassing SF-4738 in a sudden dark sandstorm. He waved at the troopers near him to continue to advance. He flipped on his thermal sights and saw that the walker hadn't even slowed down. A pair of medics rushed past him to the rear with a wounded stormtrooper laid out on their repulser stretcher. The wounded trooper was missing his left arm above the elbow. SF-4738 put it out of his mind and pushed forward through the dust cloud.

A few minutes later they were within the earthling front lines. The floor of the enemy's firebays were littered with abo corpses as stormtroopers surged forward onwards into the enemy's communication trenches as they pushed further into the abo rear areas. SF-4738's boots splashed into a shallow puddle of blood-tinged water. Several bodies lay half submerged in its depth.

SF-4738 stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed a pair of medics working on Lieutenant Mahan in one corner of a nearby trench. The two corpsmen seemed to be examining the young officer's neck. The Loot sat and held his helmet at an odd angle to let the medical troopers have better access to his wound. SF-4738 approached his commander and saluted.

Mahan pointed at the corpse of an earthling trooper clad in some type of power armor that covered its legs and torso, "Scum got me with some kind of flachette launcher, as we were clearing the trench. A piece of it nicked me in the neck."

"He bleeding bad?" SF-4738 asked one of the medics.

"Not too bad, Sergeant. Body glove sealed most of the damage." one of the medics observed.

"Hold still, Sir. We've almost got the piece out. A kolto grav-press and you should be good as new." the other corpsman ordered the officer as he worked a flexclamp into Mahan's neck and started using a field cauterizer to stop most of the bleeding.

Mahan became as still as a carbonite wall decoration, "Sarge, take the Boys forward. Orders are to stop at the edge of the bombardment zone. SF-4738 acknowledged the order with a nod just as a Walker passed over head, its footfalls creating groundquakes throughout the trench system and raining dirt down on them. He motioned for JN-6166 and HF-3105 to follow him east.

Blocking the communication trench was one last abo trooper who had lost all of his comrades and had expanded all the slugs in his weapon. The abo let out a guttural scream of rage. He swung the rifle into an onrushing stormtrooper knocking him into the wall of the trench system. He swung the weapon the other direction and made contact with the bucket of the next trooper charging through the opening. The slugthrower shattered into pieces as he clobbered the unlucky stormtrooper. He took off his bucket in flung it in desperation at the wave of advancing stormtroopers. SF-4738 aimed his E-11 but couldn't get a clear shot of the enemy trooper. The abo turned in the next instant and tried to run but was set upon by more stormtroopers who tackled him and then beat him to death in the unforgiving mud.

They turned a corner and left the wounded Lieutenant behind. Inside the enemy fortifications resistance was crumbling. Here and there, the last earthlings were throwing up their hands up in surrender, while throughout the trench system stormtroopers stood guard over earth troopers and in several areas large amounts of civilians who had sought shelter with the enemy soldiers. The trenches were crowded with stormtroopers rushing back in forth and SF-4738 could hardly locate any of his own troopers in the controlled chaos.

On the rim of the fortifications 1-H hovertanks and a wave of stormtroopers covered the open ground as they continued forward. The bang and pop of slugthrowers was slowly dying down as the last units of resistance were overwhelmed.

The three stormtroopers made it past the last trenches into an open area that until recently been used as a makeshift refugee center. Crumpled tents and other destroyed shelters littered the ground, as well as dozens of newly-dead abos. Ahead of them, the heavy turbolaser bolts of the orbital bombardment continued to slag the terrain of no-beings-land. Or what used to be no-beings-land but what was, at the moment, choked full of fleeing beings.

A virtual legion of civilians and earth troopers had chosen to take their chances and attempt to cross the perilous ground. Already the walkers had halted their advance and poured cannon blasts into the backs of the fleeing abos. They were joined by the blaster fire of thousands of stormtroopers tired of slogging their way across the ruins of the shattered Target East.

Only a few squads of scout troopers mounted on 74-Z speederbikes gave any type of pursuit as they raced between orbital impacts to tear into the fleeing abos. "You want us to set up the PLX, Boss?" JN-6166 asked as they stood on a small knoll watching the enemy retreat further and further away.

"No, don't bother. Let's see if we can gather up the rest of the platoon." SF-4738 flicked his eyelid at an icon on his HUD that gave him the locations of the beings in his platoon. He noted that he now had another dozen casualties but was relieved to see no new fatalities after the assault. He was also relieved that his chem detectors weren't picking up any traces of chemical weapons in the earthling's own lines.

Screams and shouts of 'endex' crossed the stormtrooper lines as the stormtroopers of the Corps started to stand down from the quick battle and replaced the safeties on their blasters. Behind them a column of newly captured earth troopers was being marched to the rear. No doubt they would find their new accommodations back on Mars much less to their liking.

Endex must have been heard in space as well, because for the first time in seven days the star destroyers of _Tarkin's Fist_ ceased their orbital bombardment. The only sound came from the thousands of abo wounded that lay scattered across the battlefield.

The eerie silence gripped the battle field as the stormtrooper corps started to dig new positions facing east. The dozens of AT-ATs stood guard over the legions as pre-fab imperial garrison bunkers were brought forward and emplaced.

SF-4738 started barking orders at every trooper he could find that belonged to him, soon enough Lieutenant Mahan came forward with an obvious grav-press on his neck under his helmet. The officer came over to where SF-4738 was supervising the removal of several piles of abo corpses from his newly captured position. His troopers would burn the most-likely diseased bodies behind the lines.

Mahan lifted a pair of macrobinoculars to his lenses and gazed east. "The last few of them are making it to their lines. I can see some of their troopers coming out to help."

"Not many of them made it out of the city, Sir."

"I wonder why Command let them. . ." His words were cut off by a loud thrumming that emanated several kilometers to their rear. For a few seconds the noise sounded as if a massive Gungan battle trumpet had been blown right in SF-4738 auditory canal.

As one, he and Mahan and hundreds of other troopers turned their heads towards the source of the noise. Back at LZ-LAX a massive tower with a saucer-shaped dish soared high above the flattened city. SF-4738 had watched how over the past few days imperial engineers had quickly erected the massive SLD-26 planetary shield generator. Scuttlebutt was that they had erected a twin of this one over Target West as well.

A vivid blast of energy shot high into the atmosphere from the tower's emitter antennas. Once the wave of particle shield energy reached its apex it spread out in every direction over the wrecked metropolis. It formed the shape of a dome as it encompassed all of Target East, stopping when it reached the stormtrooper positions on the edge of the no-beings-land.

Several stormtroopers shouted in victory and applauded as the protective shield made contact with the molten glass just to the front of SF-4738's own position. The blue and green-hued shield glowed for a few minutes before becoming transparent. A nearby Jumptrooper fired a bolt from his blaster to test whether or not it would penetrate. The bolt went clean through, dissipating somewhere in the skies over the earthling's far away fortifications.

SF-4738 got his troopers back to work improving their positions when a nearby boom made every trooper in his platoon look for its source.

Less than half a kilometer away concentric green circles spread out from where something had impacted with the shield. A few seconds later another dull boom echoed from somewhere to their north.

The abo heavy artillery had been hidden away for days. Every shot from their howitzers had been a near certain death sentence for their crews delivered by the rapid and highly accurate counter-battery blasts of imperial artillery units. Now those same imperial gunners stood silently by their heavy blaster mounts as their officers ordered them to hold their blasting.

The shield seemed to come to life as the first few scattered impacts rose to a booming crescendo as the abo artillery opened up with everything they still possessed. After the first few salvos elicited nothing in return the earthling gunners shrugged off repositioning their guns and poured the shells into the particle shield that was hardly even taxed by their efforts.

SF-4738 stood in the open on the rim of his most forward positions as if he was daring the enemy to take a shot at him. The entire east-facing portion of the shield was now a wall of green circles that reminded him of ripples on a pond created by a heavy rainstorm.

He smiled under his helmet and whispered to himself, "Sorry scum, you're going to have to find another way to kill my Boys, and I'll be waiting with a bolt for your brain bucket when you try."


	34. Ashla Ti 3

North American Union Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, Colorado, NAU, Earth

President Harris of the North American Union watched the graduating class of Air Force cadets as they passed behind the podium. Each of them received their diploma from the Superintendent of the service academy and hearty handshake from their Commander-in-Chief.

A low pressure system over Texas was currently sucking up most of the ash and smoke that blanketed the country to the southeast, allowing the graduation ceremony to be held outdoors in the academy's Falcon Stadium. After days of being trapped indoors and behind gasmasks everyone had jumped at the opportunity to breathe fresh air for a few hours.

The graduation had been pushed up by nearly three months and the faculty here was already drastically slashing the curriculum to graduate the class of Juniors two months from now. The cadets were needed by their country. Tomorrow they would board small, light aircraft or buses that would take them to one of the few flight schools still in operation and hidden around the country so that they could start replacing the tremendous losses in trained aircrews suffered over Los Angeles and the rest of the Union over the past week.

Several airmen filmed the event for posterity. All private cameras had been strictly banned from the proceedings and official footage of the graduation and the President's speech that had preceded it wouldn't be broadcast for a few days. Enough time for the Presidential convoy to be well away from Colorado Springs.

The last Cadet received her diploma and the Superintendent declared that the members of the graduating class now held the rank of 2nd Lieutenant in the NAU Air Force. A cheer went up from the small, gathered crowd that echoed across the many empty seats in the stadium. The President saw more than one look of concern amongst the few families that were in the stands of Falcon Stadium. Tonight the families would try not to think about such things as they spent time with their graduates before their loved one was shipped out for parts unknown to serve their Union.

President Harris wondered how many would still be alive a year from now? A month? A week?

As the ceremony came to a conclusion he traded salutes with the Superintendent and a few of the faculty. Their numbers had dwindled over the past week as their colleagues were called back into front line duties. Soon enough he was being ushered away by members of the Secret Service. Today they were scheduled to stay overnight in Colorado Springs before making their way slowly over the Rockies on their way out west, so there wasn't a sense of urgency. It was quite the change from the past week when they had raced to stay ahead of one Star Destroyer or another.

Once they were outside of the stadium one of the agents handed him an iPhone XV. He activated it to see a video of the First Lady and his two young boys somewhere in rural Missouri and hopefully safe from the Empire. On the recorded message his wife told him that they were well and missed him. She had toured several refugee camps, including Camp Chicago, in the past few days and was trying to keep North America's spirits up.

"We love you, Daddy." The boys shouted into the camera before the image went black. He fought hard to keep from tearing up. He had no idea when he would see his family again. For now the North American Union needed him more.

He boarded a small, electric golf cart and was driven for over a mile back to his hidden home away from home. His mobile convoy was set up well away from the city and the Academy, both of which could come under the guns of the Empire at any moment. Even though most cities the size of Colorado Springs had relatively been left untouched by the war no one was willing to take any chances.

The President and his escort drove up a hill to the north of the stadium. He knew he was getting close to his mobile command center when he started passing several temporary checkpoints and outposts set up by the National Guard units that had escorted him across the Midwest. Soldiers with top-of-the-line digital optics watched him pass by their posts. Tarps and camouflage netting masked several vehicles in the dark while dozens more were spread out in hidden positions throughout the countryside. The five minute ride passed in silence.

His driver stopped the cart at the armored mobile home that served as his command center. Several aides and Air Force technicians manned laptops and computer stations inside the vehicle as they monitored scattered transmissions from around the world. The rest of the area around the big command post was covered in camouflaged netting due to security concerns. Not many of his staff were present this evening, choosing instead monitor reports from the far-flung corners of the NAU or were attempting to get sleep while they could. Some of them had foregone the pleasure for days at a time as they had criss-crossed the Union.

He was amazed at how many stars he could start to see in the darkening evening sky. It helped that Colorado Springs adhered to a strict black-out. He wondered how many of those stars belonged to the Empire and cursed at any light that seemed to move across the violet-orange sky under its own power.

Two figures approached out of the encroaching darkness. He recognized them as they neared: the Director of the National Security Agency and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, both of whom had been with him since the alien's opening bombardment.

"Good evening, Mr. President. We were hoping to catch you before you sat down to dinner." the Chairman greeted him.

"I doubt my appetite will come easily tonight." The President wasn't lying. The gravity of the death toll inflicted upon his Union was taking a physical toll on his body. After a week on the road he was already feeling leaner than he had been. "I'm afraid a President's work is never done. What can I do for you, Gentlemen?" His tone implied a much harsher question, _What has gone wrong now?_

"Just wanted to brief you on some of the things that have come up since you left for the graduation, Sir. Can we take a walk?" The Director asked.

President Harris nodded. It would do good to stretch his legs. A squad of Secret Service agents kept a respectable distance as the three senior leaders conferred. They came to a nearby overlook and peered down across the Colorado prairie. The enemy-held Moon was starting to rise in the east and added its light to the scene below. A staggered line of refugees straggled down the nearby Interstate 25 on their way south. Almost all of the displaced people were on foot, though many rode bicycles or horses. The military had stopped all motorized traffic and confiscated as much fuel as they could. The President thought of the two well-guarded tanker trucks that traveled with his convoy and wondered if he was being unfair.

When the sun rose the roads south and leading into the mountains would be clogged once more with the foot traffic of the desperate, unwashed masses. To the north the massive funeral pyre that marked the corpse of Denver would be visible for a hundred miles, while to the south another column of gray smoke and debris would mark the grave of the nearby Fort Collins Army Base. Both of which had continued to burn since being bombarded from space on that horrible first day of the war. Fire crews didn't even attempt to contain the blazes. He wondered if there were any fire crews left to spare.

"Take a look at this, Mr. President." The Director held a small flashlight over several pictures.

The President shuffled through them to see several alien space craft that seemed to be traveling in column formation. Some of the pictures had been taken in low orbit, while others showed the craft nearing the Moon and had obviously been taken by digital telescopes.

"We flew in a GulfStream G750 out of Ensenada out to Hawaii, like you asked." The Director said. The President looked up at him and waited for the other shoe to drop. "It's like the aliens turned a slice of heaven into hell on Earth. Honolulu's been wiped off the map. Two Army divisions surrendered but that's not the worst of it. The Imperial troops rounded up the entire population of the islands from the Big Island to Kauai and put them on these UFOs of theirs. They used some type of life signs locators to track down those who were hiding."

"The people our scout team ran into were near starving." The Chairman said. "It seems the Imperials went on a three day scorched-Earth burning spree. They destroyed every building, burnt down cropland, wrecked the electrical and water grids, and did it in three days. I don't know where these guys got their training but they could have taught lessons to Genghis Khan or Attila the Hun."

"So who were these people your team encountered and why didn't the Imperials shoot down your jet?" Harris asked.

"They're not there anymore. Packed up everything and skedaddled just as quickly as they had come. Like I said, they're a very professional unit. The survivors fell into two groups. Either people heavily wounded in the initial attacks or during the fighting on the islands who were left to die by the Empire or, get this, people who had been to the Moon." The Chairman pointed at the rising full Moon.

"What?" After the capture of Eagle Base last year the President had given up hopes of man returning to the Moon in his lifetime. Now it seemed as if he was returning there by the hundreds of thousands.

"It's true. It seems the Empire gathered up everyone they could lay their hands on and shipped them to the Moon. The survivors all told the same story. They were subjugated to a barrage of medical screenings and tests by all sorts of aliens and robots. The ones that we found on Hawaii are evidently the ones who failed the tests. Most of them said that they were told they weren't desirable because of medical conditions that would have led to heavy medical care; Diabetes, heart disease, the later stages of cancer, and it seems the aliens were extremely prejudiced against anyone with a STD."

"What happened to the rest?"

"The aliens kept them. Some of the survivors report seeing long lines of people being loaded onto huge transports, presumably for Mars, before our Hawaiian survivors were crammed back onto their own transports and dumped all along the island chain of Hawaii. Hawaii never had much in the way of industry or agriculture way out there. Almost all of its food came from the mainland. Now their biggest problem is that starvation and malnutrition is starting to kick in, and the Imperials continue to dump more of their rejects there. Our team barely made it out of the area before several of those shuttles came back to offload."

President Harris thought back to a few weeks before when the daughter of the Empire's Fleet Admiral had demanded millions of slaves as a condition for a treaty. A condition he had refused outright. Now it seemed as if the Fleet Admiral was taking those slaves anyway. "If Hawaii has already been emptied where are they getting their new rejects?" The President asked. "As far as you guys have told me the Imperials aren't doing this sort of thing in LA and the Chinese haven't been squawking about any of this going on in Shanghai."

The Director answered. "Mr. President, these photos were taken of alien shuttles leaving the island of Tahiti, which is one of several hundred landing sites that the aliens have captured over the past week across the Pacific. There's been hardly any armed resistance to their movements."

How could there be? The President mused. Those island nations were guarded by nothing more than a light police force in some cases. The two biggest superpowers in the Pacific region were tied up with and crippled by the Imperial footholds in Shanghai and Los Angeles.

"We do have good news. We held them in Los Angeles." The Director said.

The Chairman coughed as if he were suddenly choking. "Well, they haven't advanced beyond that new shield they put up this morning. If you want to count that as 'holding them'?"

"Spin it that way to the media, what little media we have left. The citizens of the North American Union need any victory they can grab onto. And keep that shield out of the press while you're at it. No need to worry Joe Public anymore than we have to." The President ordered.

"Agreed. The more of them we get into rebuilding factories or into uniform the better. This is total war the likes of which the Earth has never seen." The Director said.

"A War of the Worlds." The Chairman added.

Harris thought of the thousands of Americans who were returning to the demolished factories and decaying farmlands of his Union. His thoughts went to the men and women who were taking up arms and moving westward towards the enemy. His prayers went out to those who were being abducted and stolen away to Mars.

"It's a war we are going to win." President Harris vowed. _Or die trying. . ._

**Overseer Billet Jenth, Guard and Overseer Compound, Concentration Camp 1138, Mars**

With just a flick of her wrist she could perform _Sai cha_ and gleefully watch as the kriffing Sith's head bounced when it hit the wooden floorboards beneath her feet.

Her lightsaber was the only source of light upon the terrified male's face. The bitter stench of fear wafted from him as sweat slowly ran down from his temple to his chin. Fear was one path to the Dark Side, she reminded herself.

The Force was screaming at her not to trust this being in her grasp, yet strangely she couldn't feel the presence of the Dark Side emanating from him, like she expected. Instead it was the Light Side within herself that was screaming of a perilous presence.

She reached out with her grasp of the Force and felt that the frightened male had no control over any aspect of the Force, let alone the Dark Side. She gripped him closer and her nostrils picked up the slight scent of his singed scruffy neck and chin, any closer to her lightsaber and the outer layers of his skin would start to boil from the heat of the blade.

Yet there was that strange feeling of sickness and strangulation that came from the human. She felt ill just being in proximity to this vile creature, yet at the same time she felt her body was becoming accustomed to it. She had felt the feeling before, when she had been led into the camp. That same feeling had radiated from every earthling slave held captive within the giant concentration camp's electrified walls. These beings were killing the Force. She gasped aloud as the realization hit her.

"Ashla." She stared into the blackness of the building she had awoken in, not recognizing the voice that had spoken.

"Ashla." The voice implored again.

"Ashla." The third time the voice was more urgent. Her mind snapped back to her surroundings. Her eyes skirted the darkness as her montrals echolocated to discover the presence of someone else in the room with them. A familiar presence, bathed in the Light Side, stood hesitantly to her side.

"Ashla, put your weapon away. It's me, Brakatak." The Gran's friendly voice drew her from her murderous intentions. With a quick pull on the human's shoulders she spun him around, keeping her blue blade's tip humming at his throat.

"Brakatak!" she exclaimed, her voice full of relief. "We've been looking for you. Where's Frip, and why are you with this sithspawn?"

The near-human had a look of confusion mixed with sheer terror as he kept his eyes focused on her lightsaber. Brak tried to calm the situation by saying, "He's a friend, Ashla. Please put your lightsaber away."

Ashla hesitated a moment before deactivating the weapon. The blue plasma energy receded into her hilt and she relaxed her combat stance and tucked the weapon away under her sash around her waist. "You vouch for him?"

"I do." The Gran answered without hesitation.

Ashla turned to the big Gran. For the first time she allowed a grin to cross her face. Brakatak returned the look with a smile that was nothing but teeth and gums. He stepped forward and wrapped her in a wookiee hug that lifted her almost a meter off the floor. Brakatak laughed as he picked her up, but she found she couldn't take her eyes off the strange male in the room. She even felt her facial features twist into a sneer as she faced him. For his part he offered her a nervous, pathetic grin.

Brakatak returned her to the floor and released his crushing grip. She steadied herself before letting go of the big Gran, her head still groggy from the sickly feeling of the Force emanating from the near-human.

Before either of them realized what was happening, the equally confused earthling took a hesitant step towards her and Brakatak. She reflexively put out her hand in a simple Force Push to stop his forward motion.

The reaction was beyond what she intended. The male was picked up off his feet and flung violently across the bunkhouse. His body crashed like a wrecking ball through a pair of wooden bunk beds, sending splinters shattering in every direction, before the near-human's limp form crumpled to a heap at the bottom of the far wall.

Red pourstone flakes broke from the wall and fell on the groaning earthling as Brakatak bounded through the barracks to see to his injured friend. Ashla stood in amazement and stared in disbelief at the hand that had harnessed the power of the Force. She didn't think she had intended to cause so much damage.

She cautiously walked across the room to where the two beings rested. Brakatak cradled the male in his lap as he held up one hand. "How many digits am I holding up, Kid?"

"Chupacabra?" the earthling groggily uttered the foreign sounding word.

Brakatak laughed, so did the male, yet more gingerly due to his injuries. "He'll live. Why'd you do that, Girl?"

"I didn't mean to. I just didn't want him to get any closer." She knelt down next to the near-human. He smiled at her. He was cute in a human kind of way. Brakatak gave both of them a strange look. "You alright? Um..."

"Jason, Jason Bogan." the male earthling tried to make it sound more astral than it was. All she did was hiss at the recognition of his family name.

"What is it?" Brakatak asked. The gran was trying to bandage several bleeding cuts on the earthling's arm and forehead.

"His name. It's another, older name for the Dark Side. I knew he was a Sithspawn." She tried to get a feel for him in the Force once again, but only received the same strangulated slippery form of the Force for her efforts.

"Sithspawn? Our name comes from England but we've been Americans for half a dozen generations." For a moment Ashla had no idea what the male was babbling about, and then it occurred to her that he was talking about nationalities on his backrocket world. Maybe he had no clue as to his Dark Side nature.

"Do you think he might be some kind of Dark Jedi?" Brakatak gasped, looking the male over with suspicion.

"Not with the way his body took that light brush off. I couldn't have thrown a Voorpak with as much force as I tossed him." She explained to her friend, "I'm sorry about that by the way. I wish I could help but I'm not a healer."

"It's fine," Jason tried to wave her concerns away in a chivalrous manner, "I've been banged up worse by the bullies back in high school, so I'm sure I'll be OK."

"You'll be what?" She asked.

Brakatak answered for the boy, "It's an Earth word. A lot of the slaves use it in the camp. Means 'astral' near as I figure."

"Sounds like something a kriffing droid or a Gungan would utter." She offered them a hand and helped both of them back to their feet. "You're sure you're not a Sith?"

"I'm sure." Jason answered. He continued to eye her with a wariness that spoke to his perfectly justifiable fear of being tossed across the room again. He leaned over and whispered a question in Brakatak's ear.

"No, she's not magic. She's Jedi." Brakatak laughed while he attached emphasis on the last word. "Maybe the last one out there."

Jason Bogan looked like he was missing most of the story.

"Ashla friend awake!" A series of hoots and whistles exclaimed from the doorway. Ashla turned to see an Ishi Tib barreling at her from the entrance to the barracks. This time she didn't put up any shields with the Force as she let her old friend Frip wrap her up in a hug that almost rivaled Brakatak's.

"It's wizard to see you too, Fishface." Ashla laughed.

Frip put her down and looked over at the damaged bunks scattered about. "Work this is of Ashla?"

"Yeah, she thought the kid was something called a Sith and flung him across the barracks. Almost took his head off with that fancy Anooba-sticker of hers." Brakatak explained.

"Lucky Jason friend has been." Frip laughed as well, slapping the young male on his back. Jason still didn't look as if he understood any of it.

Several more Gran as well, as several other beings in the yellow utility suits of OverSeers slowly filed into the billets. Some of them flopped into their bunks while others started up a game of Sabacc at one of the tables near the entrance. A pair of Gran shook their heads at the smashed bunks and looked on the verge of getting upset until Brakatak offered them the use of Frip and his own bunks to replace their damaged ones.

A large older Gran walked over and stared at Ashla from behind Frip and Brakatak. Brakatak's eyestalks went to the floor in a show of respect. "You must be Frek Frek." said Ashla.

Brakatak suddenly remembered his manners, "Sorry, Bull, this is Ashla. Ashla, this is Frek Frek."

Frek Frek gave her a courteous bow, which she returned. He stood upright and gave a suspicious look to the newly bandaged Jason who in turn was eying Ashla as if trying to make sense of her existence. "So you're a," Frek Frek's voice dropped to a whisper, "Jedi?"

Ashla carefully scanned around for any eavesdroppers before nodding her head slightly in the affirmative.

"She's a part of your herd, Brakatak. If we were to turn her in, it could mean freedom for all the Gran here." Frek Frek's words warned that someone else could just as easily betray them.

"I couldn't do that, Bull. She's a herdmate." Brakatak conceded.

Frek Frek nodded his head in understanding. "I understand, but I wanted to talk to you about something else."

Ashla stared into the eyes of the earthling as the two Gran conversed. The male stared back with steely blue eyes that were full of fear, as if he was locked in a Nexu's cage. The Force radiated with confusion from the near-human. She suddenly felt as if she was meant to help him. She focused for a second on a vision of the calm flow of the Light Side, within seconds she felt the earthling's anxiety disappear.

He looked around the room in sudden confusion and then smiled as if he were a youngling waking from a day dream. That was easier than she thought it would be, she told herself. Was it just this Jason, or were all earthlings so susceptible to The Force? She silently wondered.

She didn't have long to explore the enigma before she overheard Frek Frek. "Brakatak, there's a Death Mark on your head."

Frip gasped as Ashla suddenly focused on the two Gran. "Supposedly there's a rumor you killed some Nikto at your work site today. Story has it that this dead Spikeface was an enforcer for the surviving Black Sun gang that came from the _Abandoned Hope_."

"How are they going to pay a bounty? They're OverSeers just like us, and it's not like any of us are seeing a paycheck anytime soon." Brakatak reasoned.

"They have ways. They're the Black Sun, after all." Ashla and Frip both nodded. The Black Sun's reputation was notorious, whether in the Old Empire or the New. Any enforcer would take the job if it meant making a name for himself on Mars. Frek Frek continued, "Rumor around the other OverSeers is this new bunch from the _Abandoned Hope_ wants to get their own version of Black Sun up and running on Mars. The first thing they'll want to do is take over this concentration camp from the inside and run it like it's their own private little empire."

"Brakatak friend is biggest fish in the school. Probably scare rest of OverSeers and slaves to obey if they kill him." Frip observed. Ashla could detect Brakatak swallowing hard in frustration.

"Well they can have the camp. My herd is only here for a few more weeks." Frek Frek revealed.

"Half your herd you mean. I found Tupolek and the rest of the Gran." Ashla observed as she watched the worry and concern on Brakatak's face turn to relief.

"You did!" Frek Frek practically shouted, turning several heads in the barracks in their direction.

"Yes she's safe in the city with the rest of the females and younglings of your herd. The rest of Brakatak's herd and I have put them up at our home, and Tupolek has been finding jobs for them in Culter City when we weren't looking for clues to what happened to you beings." Ashla explained. "Every one of them is safe and free. I also have it on good authority that those Khommite cloners at Arkanian Microtechnologies have been shut down for good." She pondered their fate at the hands of the mysterious clone named Neyo, who had pointed her in the right direction for finding her friends.

"That is wizard, but can you prove the charges against us are false as well?" Brakatak asked.

"No, the Khommites have, well. . . 'disappeared'. Frek Frek, didn't you say you and your herd would be released in a few weeks?"

"True. Myself and thirty six males will be freed. The Khommites were only able to slap us with false ImPeRe Quads and a few Trips before getting us thrown in here. That got us all about half a year in here. Enough time to get the camp set up and running when the slaves from Earth arrived, so our sentences are already almost up. I'd rather serve them out than escape and draw the attention of the Culter City Guard."

"I understand. What about you guys?" Ashla turned to her pack mates Frip and Brakatak.

"The Khommites got the hang of it, by the time they caught us. Frip and I both were charged with an Ace apiece." Brakatak complained.

"Possessing cloaking device claim Khommites. Good slicer they got." Frip explained. "Forged sentencing flimsiplasts. Ten years give us." his hoots turned into sighs.

"What's worse than an Ace?" Jason asked.

Brakatak turned to the near-human. "You've got it worse. All of you earthlings in here are working with a vibroaxe over your heads."

"Death sentences for all of them." Frek Frek added. "And if we lose Brakatak here, Jason Bogan, then there goes your protection as well."

"Protection from what?" Ashla asked, still catching up.

"I've got a Death Mark from my own people for saving Brakatak's life. I'm an alien-lover."

"Well I'm here to get all of you out and back to where you belong. Frek Frek, if you want to stay and serve out the remainder of your short sentence that's up to you. But how long do you think Frip and Brakatak will last without the rest of you here?"

"Only a few days. One of those scum will make a move on him in the next day or so. Frip might last until the rest of the herd gets released, but then he'd be on his own. Jason here wouldn't last a day past Brakatak's death. Every day we find the corpses of more and more earthlings in the camp who have been friendly to us. These Earth beings that are held here really hate us, and more and more of them arrive every day."

"Matter of time it is, before explosion." Frip hooted, "Hear Frip does of guards cutting rations soon. Get work from slaves, but near-starve Earthers first they do."

"We won't stand for that for very much longer. Your guards aren't outright killing us in gas chambers or anything, but we're starting to die off in car-load lots. Some of my people have said it's worse than the Holocaust." Jason said, but the term he used was unfamiliar to those assembled.

"Holocaust?" Frip whistled.

"Oh, yeah. This sort of thing happened during the last century on Earth. Germans did it to the Jews and some other people they didn't like. It took a World War to stop them."

"I can't worry about saving all of the slaves. I don't think they can be freed from the inside. My first priority must be getting Frip and Brakatak out. If you're with them, then you are welcome to escape with us."

"I'm with you. What's your plan?"

Ashla laid out her ideas for an escape. With the inside knowledge of the camp that Brakatak, Frip and Frek Frek possessed she was able to modify it to fit their needs. Frek Frek stated that he was staying behind to look after his herd but promised to provide all the assistance he could muster when they needed it. Ashla thanked him and gave him the information he needed to find the rest of his herd in Culter City once he was released.

Ashla tossed and turned throughout the night as she tried in vain to find some rest. The presence of the sickly-feeling Force could be felt all around the OverSeer compound as it oozed in from the main camp. She wondered why the Force found these Earth beings so uncomfortable.

In the dark of the barracks every creek and moan of the floorboards sounded like an assassin or bounty hunter trying to sneak in on her friend Brakatak. She echolocated to no avail time and time again, wondering why this place put her so on edge. It was exhausting to be so on edge all the time. She couldn't tell the difference between the way the Force feels around an earthling and the way it felt around a Sith. Not that she had ever been in close proximity to a Sith Lord, perhaps they all felt like Jason she figured. The Dark Side must be exhausting.

The next morning she arose with the rest of the beings in her barracks and donned the yellow OverSeer's utility suit that everyone but the near-human Jason Bogan wore. His was the standard red that she had seen on the thousands of earthlings when she had entered the camp. She felt the shift in the Force as hundreds of thousands awoke in the barracks surrounding the OverSeer compound. She took a moment to meditate and push the feelings of neusea aside. She tried not to focus on how she'd react to being enclosed by the near-humans again or on how tired she is from lack of sleep.

They filed out towards the heavily guarded gate of the compound and waited for the guards to open it. In the east the local sun was just starting to rise over a distant mountain range and she was grateful that she had wrapped a black scarf around her montrals to protect against the morning chill.

Several beings in the crowd gave off seditious feelings of hate and animosity in the Force. She looked around and located a group of fellow prisoners who were casting menacing glances in Brakatak's direction. She turned to Frip and her face asked an unspoken question.

His eyes flicked in the direction she indicated before the Ishi Tib gave her the slightest of nods, answering for her the mystery to the identity of their 'admirers': the gang members from the _Abandoned Hope_. She tried to recall each of their faces without drawing attention to herself, while at the same time knowing that this probably wasn't all of them.

The gates opened outwards and the OverSeers spilled out into the main camp, all of them picking up an armed guard escort as they headed towards their assigned slave billets. Brakatak and Jason disappeared as they headed towards their assigned area, while Ashla followed Frip and his guards. The Ishi Tib explained that since it was her first day she would follow his group and learn the ropes before being assigned her own billets and a group of a hundred newly arrived slaves tomorrow.

Frip explained that after they retrieved their prisoners they would meet Brakatak and Jason at the transport yards, where huge landspeeder transports would take them to work sites all over the face of Mars. Their plan hung on them getting to those transports and getting on the same one as Jason Bogan and Brakatak. Her lightsaber should create the opening they needed, while her Jedi skills should incapacitate any guards in the transports themselves. After that the plan was to drop out of a hole she would cut, while in transport, and then hike back to Culter City.

She liked the simplicity of the plan even as she hated how many unknown factors could easily throw a hyrdo-spanner into the works.

The slaves they escorted to the transports seemed edgy. For most of her adult life she had lived amongst slaves in one Imperial slaveyard or another. These earthlings seemed different than slaves she had been around before. They seemed to be waiting for something, a lot of them tried to hide the appearance of beings ready to jump into a fight. Ashla was suddenly convinced that something was going to happen that the slaves didn't want the guards or OverSeers to know. She watched as their eyes darted from side to side and noted that most of them seemed too alert for beings that had recently been defeated by the Imperial Army. Their anxiety levels made the Force jump all about and she found it exhausting to concentrate on any one individual earthling.

Frip guided his group of slaves down one of the wide thoroughfares of the camp and through one of the massive fortified main gates. Ahead of her were hundreds of hovertrucks and huge repulsercraft on-loading slaves under the watchful eyes of camp guards. Between the transports and her was the milling crowd of several hundred thousand red-clad Earth slaves.

She fought against the nausea that was rising in her as her senses were swamped with the sickly feeling of the strangled Force again. Now that she knew what beings were causing it she focused on putting up barriers in her mind, like she had learned to do years ago at the Jedi Academy to protect against the Dark Side. For the time being she could keep the ill feelings out.

The prisoners stood in column formation as they awaited their turn to board the large secured craft. Ashla felt anticipation grow as she neared their vehicle, knowing it was the key to their escape. As they got closer she noted Brakatak and Jason at the front of their own formation of slaves heading to the same hovertruck as them.

The big Gran walked over to them, his eyestalks swiveling back and forth as if they were on pivots. He stopped right in front of Frip's slave formation with Jason Bogan in tow. "Jason says there is something up with the rest of the earthlings. He doesn't know what it is, because they're all refusing to speak to him this morning, but whatever it is it's got him spooked."

Frip shrugged, "Odd it is, no problems have Frip with Frip's slaves." the Ishi Tib hooted.

Ashla reached out to Jason Bogan, the near-human radiated anxiety in the Force. Something was certainly making him, and for that matter the earthlings around them, nervous.

Ashla's attention was turned away from the crowd by the approach of two more OverSeers. A hairy Defel and a Weequay, both with the menacing looks and tattoos of the Black Sun, bore down on them and waved Brakatak towards them.

The Gran turned and did so, moving just out of earshot from Ashla. She felt Frip and Jason tense up as the Defel jabbed a finger into Brakatak's chest. Ashla stepped forward to listen.

"He doesn't like you." the Defel explained, evidently doing the talking for both of the Black Sun goons.

"I'm sorry." Brakatak tried to turn away from the two.

The Defel grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back, "I don't like you either. You just watch yourself. We're wanted men. I have the death sentence on twelve systems."

"I'll be careful then." Brakatak conceded.

"You'll be dead!" The Defel barked.

Ashla chose that moment to step in, "This big guy isn't worth the effort. Come let me get you something..."

The Weequay stepped forward and gave Brakatak a powerful shove, sending him tumbling into the mob of watching earthlings. Suddenly the Defel pulled out a hidden chrome hold-out blaster and leveled it at Ashla's face.

From behind her, Frip hooted in a panic, "No Blasters! No Blasters!"

With astounding agility and a flick of her thumb and wrist her lightsaber sparked to life and in a flash the Defel's blaster arm was laying on the ground.

The Weequay made the last mistake of its life and lunged forward. With the slightest of movements Ashla doubled her attacker, splitting him in half from chin to groin.

The entire fight lasted less than a few seconds. The wounded Defel stared in shock at Ashla as she pointed her weapon at him. "Jedi." He spat on the ground before turning and fleeing into the packed mob of startled earthlings.

The near-humans stared in disbelief at the Jedi Knight as she deactivated her lightsaber and tucked it away. They gave her a wide berth as she returned to her friends.

The formations of slaves had lost all order in the sudden confusion and the Togruta noticed that a sea of red-suited earthlings separated her and her friends from the transports. Someone shoved a female slave out of the way to her left and Ashla turned, expecting to see more Black Sun scum pushing their way forward to avenge their comrades.

Instead a trio of camp guards, one with an E-11 blaster rifle and the other two armed with force pikes, look down in amazement at the corpse in front of Ashla.

"You there, Fang-Girl, what happened..." Before the lead guard could finish his inquiry a bolt impacted him in the face. His body collapsed backwards as his blaster skittered into the crowd. Ashla had just enough time to glance down and notice that the Defel's hold-out blaster was now was in the hands of one of the near-human slaves.

A second guard barely had time to react before two bolts smacked into his ribs and sent him to the ground. His body impacting in a cloud of red Martian dust.

The earthling with the blaster fired a bolt into the sky and let loose a battle cry of, "Freedom!"

The packed crowds of earthlings echoed his scream. Those closest to the third guard overwhelmed him and quickly beat him to death in front of Ashla's eyes. "Kill the aliens!" someone shouted above the cacophony of the mob.

Ashla's lightsaber came to life again. She reached out instinctively with the Force and pulled Frip and Brakatak to her side. The big Gran pulled Jason Bogan along with them and the four of them took a quick defensive stance as the swirling, screaming mob broke in every direction around them.

Across the massive loading docks, the melee spread quickly as guards and OverSeers fought like trapped Nexu to make their way back to the protection of the camp. The guards in the watch towers started to pour heavy blasts from their E-webs into the rioting mob.

On the fringes of the crowd, near-human earthlings saw their chance to escape in the open expanses of the sweeping plains of Mars and thousands started to run that direction in crazed panic. Tens of thousands more charged the main gate of the slave compound where the Warden had arrived with reinforcements of RC-AD Riot Control droids and AT-RCs to form a firing line of withering blaster fire aimed at the slaves.

Within the crowd hundreds of guards were overwhelmed or formed small groups that battled their way back to the safety of the firing line. One group was led by the Gran Bull Frek Frek and a few dozen of his Gran herd. He spotted Ashla and her group just as the Jedi Knight bisected an earthling charging Frip with a captured shovel.

"Brakatak, run! Go! This is the chance you needed!" Frek Frek bellowed as his group was pushed further and further away by the massive surge of embattled slaves.

"He's right, this is the perfect distraction!" Brakatak shouted as a slave armed with some sort of makeshift blade charged him. Brakatak punched the slave in the mouth, sending teeth and blood everywhere.

The four of them ducked as a distant hovertruck exploded, sending blazing shrapnel across the loading zone. "Hills over there good should be." Frip suggested, already pushing Jason ahead of him and pointing to the distant mountain range on the horizon.

"Anywhere besides here would be wizard." Ashla agreed.

Unfortunately the four of them were surrounded by thousands of blood-thirsty earthlings at the moment. A large group of whom had suddenly decided to surge at the four of them and wipe them from the face of Mars.

A solid wall of near-humanity came at them from every direction. The earthlings in front were pushed forward by the masses behind them. Ashla spun her whirring blade in a blue-hued arc as a warning but she knew that they were so vastly outnumbered that her skills would only keep the mob off of them for a second or two.

The nearest slaves were within a meter of their group and reached out with their fists to grab a hold of them. Ashla reacted instinctively, in the space of a heartbeat she dropped to one knee and placed her free hand upon the red dirt below them. Focusing her mind on the Force, she closed her eyes and went through the technique of the Force Push.

Her mind's eye gave her the image of a thermal detonator going off inside a pile of leaves. In her darkness she heard hundreds of screams of shock and terror.

Her eyes opened and she was amazed by what she saw. For fifty meters, the ground around her small group was completely cleared of all beings. Near-humans were still plunging backwards, propelled by the Force in every direction. Some of the earthlings had even been flung dozens of meters into the air before landing in bone-crunching heaps.

Her three companions looked at her in amazement. The exertion left her bone tired but she knew she couldn't stop just then. She grabbed Frip by the collar and started to pull him along as she moved away from the main camp. "Let's go!"

She started off at a trot and the recovering earthlings gave her a wide berth as they sought easier prey. With her echolocation she felt the other three members of her pack following in her wake, behind her Brakatak flipped a male slave onto his back when he charged the Gran. Brakatak didn't even break stride.

Outside the loading docks the red plains of Mars sloped gently down before dropping off the edge of a small mesa. Across the plain multiple rows of teeth wire slowed the passage of the fleeing slaves. Ashla could make out several areas where the near-humans were tearing through the wires or flinging the corpses of unlucky slaves on top of them so the rest of them could pass through.

Frip pointed to a nearby gap where hundreds of the earthlings were pouring through. Ashla let the Ishi Tib take the lead.

At the gap, several slaves looked back and noticed the yellow-clad OverSeers barreling down on them. One of the females tried to organize a small roadblock. Ashla detected what she was doing just as they arrived at the gap.

Ashla slowed her pace and reached out with the Force. Astonished by how easily the Force manipulated these near-human beings, she picked up the resistive female and used her as a battering ram, swinging her like a nuna-ball into the other slaves who tried to stop their passage.

She focused on the Light Side and took no enjoyment in feeling bones snap and bodies bruise as she caused the collision. The near-humans were just starting to come to their senses and regain their feet when the four of them raced past the gap and continued down the slope.

Behind them smoke and fire rose from the camp as blaster fire continued from the area of the main gates. E-Webs poured their fire randomly across the rioting crowds. A pair of towers were collapsing under the prisoners' assault. A haphazard shot smashed the slaves at the gap only seconds after Ashla followed her three pack-mates through.

On the slope it was every being for himself. Mothers ran with their children, fathers tried to lead their families to the perceived safety of the edge of the mesa ahead. Ashla felt crowded by the river of beings. It gave her the impression of being amidst a panicked herd of wild animals. She had to fight to prevent being overwhelmed by the panic that filled the Force around her.

The only good thing about being out on the plain, as far as she could tell, was that most of the fighters the humans had were still battling the guard force behind them so at least they should be left alone until they made it over the lip of the mesa.

No sooner had that thought occurred to her, when the sounds of tiny explosions sounded from ahead of them. Ashla's ears strained to make out the source as she struggled to keep from being separated from her friends in the crowd.

The small explosions sounded unlike anything she had ever heard, muffled and slightly wet. In her time as a slave she had heard industrial explosions as well as dozens of thermal detonators and grenades go off, but these were different.

She got the impression through her echolocation that the crowd was thinning out ahead of her and she could detect the edge of the mesa closing with them. Suddenly a large near-human male that had been running ahead of her jerked crazily to the side. His body convulsed and his legs gave out underneath him and he hit the ground hard. As his body impacted the soil his head exploded on his shoulders and Ashla knew what had been causing those explosions.

Ashla stopped her forward motion as she reached a small berm of near-human corpses. All of them practically decapitated from some kind of explosion at the top of their spines. The surge of the fleeing crowd carried more and more of the slaves to their deaths at the berm.

Brakatak stopped beside her. With a glance his three eyestalks swiveled down the kilometer long berm. He shoved her to her left and spun around, scanning the onrushing surge for his new target. A second later he saw it. The big Gran reached out with his powerful arms and wrapped up the sprinting Jason in a wookiee hug that arrested his forward motion with a thud.

"Slave chips." Brakatak shouted. "They fitted the earthlings with them on their moon, before shipping them here."

Ashla shuddered. The devices were sheer evil. They killed a being just for attempting to gain its freedom. Now in front of her was a pile of thousands of them rushing to their deaths just as independence seemed so close. Then it occurred to her that Jason Bogan had one of the devices implanted in him.

Frip joined them as she grabbed the earthling by his shoulders and spun him around. Sure enough a small scar was present on the back of Jason's neck. "Baradium charges, base of neck they placed." the Ishi Tib hootedly explained.

The din and screams of the panicked mob threatened to drown her out but Ashla pointed at the onrushing near-humans. "Keep them off of me for a minute." The Gran and Ishi Tib took up a blocking position and deflected several rushing slaves to their flanks where they continued to push forward to their explosive ends.

Ashla focused on her echolocation and augmented it with the power of the Force. Her montrals picked out the shape and location of the vertebra within Jason's neck. She could also detect his skull and the brain matter within and watched for a few seconds as his lungs rose and fell as he struggled to catch his breath from their run. It surprised her when it reminded her of his humanity.

She spotted the plug of explosives wrapped around his C3 vertabra. It was a simple job, probably placed there by a medical droid amongst the thousands it had emplaced at the same time as Jason's bomb.

In the center of the explosive was a tiny, cylindrical rod of metal with a transmitter attached to it. Ashla placed her hand around his throat and felt Jason tense up. She ignored him and focused solely on her echolocation before sinking her fangs into the back of his neck, creating two puncture sites.

She pulled her head back and watched blood trickle down the back off his neck. Frip laid an elbow and shoulder into an onrushing female and sent her flying over the group. The near-human landed on the berm where her own bomb quickly ended her life. Anguish washed over the small Ishi Tib's face before he turned and vomited onto the blood-soaked ground. Ashla had to stop this and soon.

Ashla regained her focus and reached for the detonator cylinder with the Force. She tugged at it, slowly pulling it free of the explosives. The concentration was exhausting her as she wiggled the detonator back and forth through the puncture site and free into the open air, where it fell into her open palm.

"He's good." Ashla held up the small detonator to show the other three before dropping it to the ground and smashing it with the heel of her boot. "What about the rest of them?"

"We've got to move, Ashla." Brakatak warned, moving towards the piles of bodies ahead of them. "You can't save all of them."

"Not a few even." Frip agreed as he followed the Gran.

"I can try. Jason, get behind me." Ashla commanded the earthling, who followed after the other two.

Ashla planted both feet on the ground. Her eyes narrowed at the rising near-human wave that was rushing towards her. The slippery presence in the Force that surrounded the earthlings threatened to overwhelm her senses. She dropped all of her mental walls and let herself be washed in the power of the Light Side.

Ashla reached down into the depths of her being to places she didn't even know existed. She stretched out her arms as wide as she could. Her red and white skin glistened with sweat in the cool Martian sun. Her shoulder and back muscles flexed as she suddenly thrust her hands outward in front of her, letting the Light Side flow from her.

The throng of panicked earthlings hit the wall of Force energy like a wave crashing against a rocky shoreline. Hundreds were not only stopped in their tracks, but knocked backwards off of their feet as well.

As Ashla had hoped, the momentary pause in their flight allowed them to see the danger that lay before them. They witnessed the long berm full of their dead brethren. As they clambered back to their feet Ashla felt hundreds of eyes turning in her direction. Without uttering a word, she spoke gently in their minds, "Go back."

They turned by the thousands back towards the camp to give reinforcements to the earthlings fighting the guard force at the main gates. Perhaps they realized that if they wanted to live then they would rather risk dying on their feet than fleeing and losing their heads.

Ashla felt the last reserves of energy leave her as the horde turned away from her. Brakatak caught her just before she could collapse. The big Gran flung her over his shoulder as he climbed through the berm of headless corpses.

Behind her, great smoky columns rose from the camp. Ahead of her, Frip waved that he had found a way down from the mesa. The four friends raced down the bloodstained and gore covered cliff, and out towards the red plains of Mars and their freedom.


	35. Yos 3

Richfield High School, Richfield, Utah, Earth

President Harris waited for the applause to die down. People always got excited after he told them that the army was 'holding' the aliens to their toe hold inside Los Angeles. When the crowd was silent once more he continued, ". . . soon our men and women are going to throw them right back out again!" The crowd cheered.

The small audience was a mix of late middle-age to elderly adults and young children from the area's schools that had hiked in to see the unexpected arrival of their Commander-and-Chief. Everyone of military age, both men and women, including the entire Richfield High School senior class, had been drafted and sent away. Those who remained had been surprised when the President's mobile convoy had pulled into their small town on his way out west.

Several military cameramen filmed his speech. They were under orders not to disclose his location. Nobody wanted a repeat of the orbital bombardment that had been unleashed upon Colorado Springs a few days ago, after footage of his speech at the Air Force Academy had been broadcast. Even though he was being hunted by someone in the enemy fleet his resolve remained unshaken.

"You are just as important to that future victory as the men and women who hold the rifles. Your work in the fields and factories puts food and bullets in the hands of our brave soldiers. I know things look bleak and times seem dark." He scanned the faces of the largely Mormon community. Knowing they would be stopping throughout Utah his speech writer had tailored his address to his audience. "Especially after the unholy destruction of Salt Lake City and the Temple. I promise you this: when this war is over the North American Union will rebuild and the Temple shall rise again!" The crowd sent up an approving roar.

"Do you think these godless aliens even have religion? They seek to place a boot on each of our necks and spit in the face of our beliefs, no matter what creed. This is what the Empire believe in." Pictures of the destruction of dozens of cities across the NAU were projected behind him on the gymnasium wall. Scenes of the refugee camp outside of Chicago, the Statue of Liberty toppled over with the ruins of New York City in the background, footage of the starving survivors of Hawaii, and finally frightening stills of alien machines standing tall in the wreckage of Los Angeles played with the hearts of the small crowd.

"Shame." a feminine voice carried across the gathering. A murmer of whispered agreement passed through the gymnasium.

"With your help we will put things right again. With your help we will reclaim our own planet. And with your help, we will win!" The crowd cheered again. Most of them with such sincerity as he had never heard on the campaign trail. With the alien's signal warfare units jamming most radio frequencies this was the first time these Utahans had even heard the President was still alive, let alone fighting back, and his existence alone seemed to reenergize them.

President Harris moved into the crowd and shook dozens of offered hands. Secret Service agents held back but kept a wary eye on the crowd. Most of the men present were old enough to be his grandfather or young enough to have never known a razor. He had no worries about his own safety among them.

The assemblage let out and people donned gas and surgical masks before they started walking back to their homes and jobs. The vast majority of them worked at a small factory on the outskirts of town that made army uniforms. Some people mounted horses. The animals had large, make-shift gasmasks attached to their bridles which covered their snouts. President Harris noted that aside from the vehicles of his own convoy there wasn't a single car on the streets of Richfield. In fact large signs on two of the three gas stations in town proclaimed that they were all out of gas and the third was closed.

The President was led back to the RV that had been converted into his mobile command center. Inside the Director of the National Security Agency waited for him. Harris noted that the vehicle had been oddly deserted by the usual gathering of military technicians that monitored the short-burst communication and encryption gear that kept him in touch with the rest of the Union.

The President closed the door of the camper behind him and took a seat across from the NSA Director. "Good news or bad this time?" He asked as he removed his protective mask and placed it on the seat beside him.

"Just new intel, which I guess could be taken as good news considering how little we've come across since the Imperial Fleet entered our system." The Director opened up his laptop computer. On it were the faces of two Caucasian males, both of which appeared a little roughed up.

"The one on the left is Trooper TK-4211 or Han Tycho. He is a Scout Trooper with the 2nd Platoon, _Besh_ Company, 3rd Battalion, 395th Legion, 2nd Martian Line Corps. He was taken prisoner, just before LA fell, by Delta Force operatives. The one on the right is 2nd Lieutenant Himi 'Gutshot' Legrue of _Borhek_ Reconnaissance Squadron based off of the _Imperial I_-class Star Destroyer _Limbo_ of the Ploo Squadron of the Maw Defense Fleet. His TIE/rc fighter was shot down near Bakersfield." The Director carefully recited the obviously memorized titles of the two enemy soldiers.

"Ok, I got about one word out of five in all of that."

"These two are, with some persuasion on our part, proving to be quite talkative. For instance, when Phasma Yos was our prisoner she claimed the Empire consisted of several million planets, the only two we knew of were Subterrel and this Imperial Center place that seems to be their capital. We now know that Lieutenant 'Gutshot' here was born on a world named Corellia, while Trooper TK-4211 hails from someplace called Taris. Both prisoners confirmed Phasma's claim of millions of systems, especially our TIE pilot, who's been to thirty systems in six different sectors in two different regions during his short time in the Imperial Navy"

"Tie pilot?"

"TIE, T-I-E. It stands for Twin Ion Engine. It's what the Imperials call their family of 'H' fighters. That bit of information is being delivered to our researchers as we speak. They think they might be able to tweak our sidewinders a bit to look for ion emissions instead of heat."

"I see, that would be a great help, so what else did our 'TIE pilot' disclose?"

"Turns out our friend Fleet Admiral Yos is either preparing to declare himself Emperor of Mars, if he hasn't already."

"Wait. What about this other guy they've got, what's his name? Palpatine! He can't be happy Yos is doing something like that. Is this some kind of coup d'etat going on on Mars?"

"That's just it, both prisoners confirmed it. The Empire on Mars is cut off from their much bigger Galactic Empire, beyond any means of contact. Allegedly, we're not even in the same galaxy as their Empire. It's just them up there."

"So we're not outnumbered?"

"No. In fact both POWs suggest their own numbers might be somewhere between ten and twenty million. 'Gutshot' here, seemed to have a better picture of the situation and guessed at well over thirteen million."

"My own analysts are suggesting that we lost somewhere in the neighborhood of _well over_ one or two billion people world-wide in their opening attack." The President didn't mention that those same analysts predicted another billion people dying from disease and starvation caused by the destruction inflicted by the alien fleet over the course of the next few years. "That still means we outnumber them several hundred times over doesn't it?"

"Yes, Sir. If we lose fifty soldiers for every one of theirs we kill we'll still come out on top."

Harris winced. "That's. . .disturbing, yet refreshing at the same time. Sounds like how the Russians or the Chinese fought WW2. Does either of these prisoners know when their army is planning on breaking out of Los Angeles?"

"Unfortunately they're both grunts. Neither of them were privy to anything like that, but the stuff they've been telling us is intel gold. We've been trying to figure out what makes them tick and trying to piece together a way to lay a trap for them. I'd like your permission to try something out in Kentucky?"

"You have it. We've got to start hitting back harder. Now what else can these two tell us about their forces inside of LA?"

The Director hit a button on his computer. Visual icons of Imperial weapons flashed across the screen. The pictures stopped on the image of a menacing four-legged war-machine. "This is the Imperial walker or A-T-A-T. . ."

The meeting went long into the evening. The President didn't even notice when the trailer moved off to the west again.

**2 kilometers over the Chryse Planitia, North of Seco Reservoir, Mars**

The Emperor of the 1st Martian Empire paced back in forth in the passenger compartment of the _Theta_-class _T-2c_ shuttle, he used as his own personal transport. The smell of burning, rotten flesh clung to his white Grand Admiral's uniform and threatened to overwhelm his nasal passages again.

His shuttle was cruising at a leisurely speed back to Culter City from his inspection tour of the large Concentration Camp 1138. Below the craft the agricombines that filled the Chryse Planitia and fed his empire stretched out for another three hundred kilometers before overlapping the shores of the Seco Reservoir well to the south.

Two blue-hued holoprojections of officers stood at attention on the imagecasters at the front of the craft. One of them was a Devaronian, the devilish appearing male was Commissioner Jord'dan', head of the Culter City Guard. The red armor of his command still sported several recent battle scars from the past few days of barrack-to-barrack fighting. The other officer was Colonel Katarn, commander of the home legion, whose stormtroopers had spent the last three days putting down the massive slave revolt at the sprawling camp.

"What is the final tally, Gentlemen?" Aveo Yos spun around and faced the two officers, his hands tucked behind his back.

"Seven hundred and thirteen camp guards, administrative staff, and stormtroopers killed retaking the camp." Jord'dan' report.

"About three times that wounded. Those casualties have all been transferred to medical facilities within the capital." The Army officer added. Yos tried not to wince at the numbers; by far the largest amount of Imperial casualties incurred from the Earthlings since the Empire-Earth War began.

"Yes, the bulk of which are expected to make full recoveries." the horned Devaronian continued. Yos was glad for that. He needed every being he could get his hands on to bring to a successful conclusion of the war on Earth. Though he sighed at the thought of the hundreds of gallons of bacta and prosthetics that would have to be funded for these unexpected casualties. ". . . eighty-seven hovertrucks and smaller transports were either destroyed or damaged as well as the loss of two AT-RCs, within the camp. Two administrative office buildings as well as twent- three guard and OverSeer barracks had been burnt down, along with an estimated two thousand prisoner billets were lost."

"That doesn't concern me," Yos interrupted. "Those prisoners that survived can sleep on the ground for all I care. What are our projected labor losses?"

"Two hundred thirty-five thousand confirmed destroyed. We'll probably double that by the time the executions are over." Katarn stated, giving a slight shrug which showed how little the lives of enemy prisoners meant to him.

Yos already knew those numbers. He had spent the last four hours inspecting the wreckage of the massive camp. He had watched while surviving Gran OverSeers had used repulser-dozers to pile large pyramids of earthling corpses before setting them ablaze. The columns of smoke had filled the horizon when his shuttle had first made its approach.

"Those losses mean nothing to the Empire in the long run." Yos warned. "They will be replaced."

An aide for Moff Culter who had been embedded with Yos's staff during the riot, spoke up from his seat. "Your Highness, Luna Base on the Earth's moon has medically screened and is currently holding just over two hundred thousand prisoners aboard transports there. Their transport was halted, awaiting your clearance to bring them to Camp 1138 once the fighting had been put down."

"I've heard the forces taking part in Operation _Piper _were put on temporary hiatus and have spent the last three days undergoing refit and resupply." Colonel Katarn informed him. "They were just about to land in Target Papua New Guinea when they were placed on stand down by Admiral Bacara."

"Inform Admiral Bacara and Moff Seco to resume _Piper _in the Pacific," he ordered, glad he remembered the name of the oddly-named, turbulent ocean on the foreign world. He turned to Culter's aide. "What are our production losses in terms of our time table?"

"Five days right off the hyperjump. The hypermatter production facility could be set back a few weeks until new workers can be brought in and acclimated to the high altitude work site. If _Piper_ resumes immediately and the slaves at Luna Base are put into terraforming and agricultural labor right off the transports, they should make up the numbers lost quickly enough."

"Good, good. Well Gentlemen, any suggestions for preventing this from happening again?" Yos asked the HoloImaged officers as well as the dozen or so aides taking up the seats of his shuttle.

The Kuati aide spoke up first. "Moff Kuat has already suggested that the large Concentration Camp 1138 be split up into a dozen more easily controlled, smaller camps. They could be placed closer to individual work sites as well." Yos had already considered it, but the problem of constructing dozens of new camps around the planet as well as tripling the bureaucracy needed to run a prison system on that scale left him doubtful about that particular course of action.

Yos wanted to dissuade this notion before it ever took root. "The beings of Mars are already spreading out from Culter City due to the land grants that Moff Culter has started to accord to all citizens of the original _Tarkin's Fist_. How could we guarantee that these new prisons wouldn't be in someone's back lot? This area of the Chryse Planitia is under military and Culter City Guard control. I'm in favor of keeping the Terran primitives here for the time being."

"The slave chips worked as advertised," Jord'dan' spoke up. Yos shuddered as he remembered the sight of that huge berm of decapitated near-humans at the fringe of the camp, "Is there a way we can adapt them to brain activity. Say, hypnotic suggestion to make them less subversive?"

The Kuati aide, his name was Gage, Yos suddenly recalled, spoke up. "Your Majesty, my Moff Kuat has a suggestion that he would like to put forth regarding this." The Kuati stepped forward and held out a HoloImager in the palm of his hand. On it the blue-hued figure of the Kuati Moff bowed on bended knee from somewhere aboard his orbiting driveyards.

"Greetings, Emperor Yos." the old Kuati greeted him.

"Hello Kuantus, what is this I hear about you having a solution to one of our problems?"

The image of Kuantus Kuat pushed an icon on its datapad and the DNA double helix of some kind of plant life appeared rotating in the hologram next to him. "Your Highness, I give you the Savorium herb."

Yos's eyes narrowed as he tried to recall where he had heard that name before.

Behind him Colonel Katarn let out a chuckle. Yos looked over his shoulder and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the hologramed Colonel.

"Smilers, Sir." Katarn said.

The name suddenly clicked. Smilers were drugged slaves. Ingestion of the Savorium herb replaced all subversive thoughts in their minds with images of peace and joy. Anyone who was under the influence of the drug would have a perpetual grin on their face, hence the name. The Old Empire had clamped down on the trade in the Targonn System, where the plant had been harvested, but smugglers and slavers still got small amounts out and into the Home Galaxy from time to time.

Moff Kuat filled in the rest, "Indeed I have a team of the best Ithorian botanists in the Galaxy working aboard one of my research vessels. The Hammerheads have been able to crossbreed Savorium with Algarine Torve Weed and laced it with a healthy dose of Neutron Pixie spice. With Moff Culter's permission the first shipments of the new 'Smilie Spice' will be administered to the next arrival of prisoners from Luna Base through their diet."

Jord'Dan added something of his own, "Smilers are the most content beings in the universe. They are completely accommodating and will do anything you ask of them. This would drastically reduce the danger of infiltrators, as any drugged being would assist us and be unwilling to complete their sabotage missions. You could even have them work happily to death if you wanted them to."

Yos considered it. Through purposely painful interrogation sessions of captured slaves over the past three days it had been learned that several nations of Earth had smuggled in hundreds of saboteurs, agitators, and infiltrators onto Mars with the latest captured slave quotas.

"We could even increase our output with Operation _Stork_." Kuat suggested, "Simply instruct a Savorium user to breed and they will."

"Talk about going out with a smile on your face." Katarn joked, which got a chuckle from Yos and his male aides. His two female aides aboard the shuttle just shook their heads in silent condemnation of the male gender.

"Start the process as soon as possible Moff Kuat. I will inform Moff Culter of the plan. Continue to embed slave chips into the population as well. Those kill switches were the only thing that prevented this riot from spreading across the whole face of Mars." Yos ordered. He shuddered to think what loose earthlings would have done to his fledgling society. As it were, there had been roughly a little less than a million of the primitives in the camp at the start of the riot. That many fugitive slaves on the run could have potentially destroyed his Empire in its infancy. "Also deploy more observation probots into the camp once the last of the rioters have been put down."

"As you command." Kuat gave a bow as his image disappeared. His aide Gage closed his holoimager and retook his seat.

"Commissioner Jord'dan, are we positive that this was started by infiltrators?"

The Devaronian nodded his head, but his eyes appeared to be seeking some bit of data he might have missed. "We've interrogated thousands with the IT-O droids. We have confirmed captures on agents from the PRC's Ministry of State Security, the NAU's CIA and NSA, the Russian Federation's Main Intelligence Directorate, as well as agents from the Philippines, Indonesia, Australia, Israel, and Japan. Almost all of them acting independently from each other."

"Can we expect more?" Yos inquired.

Katarn answered. "With every new shipment there should be an expected percentage of prisoners with some kind of intelligence or saboteur training. Operation _Piper _on Earth is scooping up every being they can get a hold of on those islands. All an enemy agent has to do is sit and wait long enough and Bacara and his clones will scoop them up."

"Agreed then, the rest of the slaves should be considered hostile as well." Yos concluded, "The slave chips will continue to be administered at Luna Base to all the slaves that pass medical screening. Gage, inform Moff Kuat that the first dose of the new 'Smilie Spice' should be given to slaves as they initially make planetfall here. I don't want those diseased earthlings we're refusing and returning to their planet to get any whiff of it. We don't need their scientists to start developing counter-measures and antidotes."

"Yes, My Lord." the Kuati answered.

"Where is Captain Yutu?" Yos asked, wondering what his own Intelligence Chief was doing to infiltrate the primitive near-human society of Earth.

"My Lord, Captain Yutu is currently onboard the _Quill _in Geosynchronous orbit near the KDY Driveyard." One of the blue armored Royal Guardsmen informed him. Yos, of course, knew the location of his own flagship.

"Have the pilots take us there." he commanded. "Have Captain Yutu meet me in the hanger when we arrive."

Before dismissing the officers he inquired, "Any other concerns?"

Katarn responded in the negative and saluted as his HoloImage disappeared. The officer had evidently been in a hurry to return to his troopers who were still involved in a Tabaga-and-Vrelt hunt with the last few resisting slaves in the wrecked camp. Jord'dan' hesitated a moment. "Your Majesty, may I ask your opinion of Order 66?"

"Order 66? Palpatine's old execution order for the Jedi?" Yos asked in surprise as he felt the shuttle begin its climb for orbit. "I haven't thought of it in years. Why?"

"I recently discussed events in Culter City that were consistent with a Force-user, or at least some being wielding a lightsaber, with Captain Yutu. My detectives also discovered several bodies at the location of the camp's loading docks that were consistent with the Jedi weapon. Three dead near-humans as well as a Weequay and a one-armed Defel corpse all had the appearance of being killed by the weapon. Slave interrogations have revealed several Terran slaves witnessing a 'lasersword' wielding female present at the initial outbreak of violence."

"Could a Jedi have set off the riots?"

"Not as far as we've learned. It sounds like the slaves were itching to go. Most of the surviving guards have stated that the prisoners all went off at once. Set off by some slave who had somehow come across a hold-out blaster screaming 'Freedom'." the Devaronian reported. All of this was in the reports Yos had skimmed over during his inspection of the camp.

"So one of those lost Jedi might have made it through the 'big jump' with us? Interesting." Yos thought about the Commissioner's question for a moment. He turned to one of the military aides in his entourage, "Rescind Order 66. In fact rescind all of Palpatine's standing Contingency Orders one through one hundred and fifty. It's high time the New Empire replaced the Old Empire in more than name only."

"And the Jedi?" Jord'dan' asked.

"Bring her in if you come across her. No executions or disintegrations, please. I would like to have a chat with this Jedi if I could." Yos waved dismissal at the Devaronian. Jord'dan' saluted and his HoloImage blinked out of existence a few seconds later.

The sky outside the viewports of Yos's shuttle went from the purple hues of the terraformed Martian upper atmosphere to the pitch black of the void as they entered low orbit. At a leisurely pace the luxury craft overflew the KDY driveyards, where they picked up a pair of TIE/In Interceptors as escorts.

The driveyards were filled with Imperial workers busily constructing almost a dozen new colony and explorer vessels. The colony ships were massive constructs along Ithorian and Mon Calamari design lines. They were to be equipped to house a few thousand clone vats for various species as soon as habitable planets had been located or terraformed.

Yos noticed the absence of both the explorer vessel the _StarGate__,_ which had been launched a few days prior and was currently mapping exits from this system in the Kuiper Asteroid Belt that encircled this system, and the first colony ship, the _Sweet Skako_. The _Sweet Skako_ had been filled with two thousand of the first clones, secretly decanted by Moff Culter. The clones were Skakoan and Morseerian beings, capable of withstanding the deadly conditions present on Earth 2, which had been selected as the first Martian colony, once it had been successfully terraformed.

On the far end of the driveyards, vacuum arc welders worked on securing a massive durasteel skeletal structure to a single nineteen kilometer long keel made up of the _Tarkin's Fist's_ entire supply of impervium coating. Moff Kuat's pride and joy, their work would construct the next generation of fearsome Star Destroyers. These would someday be the vanguard of Phasma's Navy.

Standing to, in an over watch orbit, rested the white-hulled _Quill__,_ his flagship and home for more than a decade. As the sailors of the fleet called her, she was the only 'Imp Star Deuce' in the fleet, and for the next few years would remain the most powerful warship in the Milky Way Galaxy. Currently she was taking on a supply of tibanna from a _Star Galleon_ fleet tender dispatched from the gas processing facility in orbit around Earth 5.

He could only see the profile of his flagship for a moment before the pilots turned the nose of his shuttle towards the Star Destroyer's hanger bays. The light of the nearby star _Sol_ disappeared, plunging the _Theta_ into shadows as it passed under the superstructure of the _Quill__._ Her extended wings folded up till they bracketed her hull as she entered the Alpha Hanger of the warship.

Outside of his viewports he saw several formations of sailors and naval troopers awaiting his arrival. Once the pilots gave the clearance that they had landed, the loading ramp dropped and his personal guardsmen descended first and took up formation at the bottom of the ramp amidst several vapor clouds being emitted by his shuttle's landing thruster's out-gassing.

He exited the craft slowly and deliberately, his arms folded behind his back. As he descended, the formations of personnel snapped to attention before presenting arms. At the bottom of the ramp was a blue carpet with two officers kneeling before their Emperor.

"Rise, Captains." Yos ordered the two men. The younger of the two sprang quickly to his feet. Captain Yutu met his gaze and the silent words of their recent agreement over his daughter's heritage flashed between their eyes.

The older man, Captain Nake, commander of the _Quill__,_ arose with a speed that belied his years. The two old friends grinned and nodded at each other. "Shall we move this to the Flag Bridge, Admiral? Sorry, I meant, My Emperor." Nake corrected himself.

Yos wouldn't have noticed the slight at all, if it hadn't been for the presence of so many other officers, as well as his aides who were halted on the ramp behind him. In private, his old friend could call him by his first name if he wanted to, but impressions were to be made, and appearances kept up. "Fail to address me properly again, Captain, and there will be consequences. Understood?" He locked eyes with his old comrade.

"Aye, Aye, My Lord."

"Excellent suggestion, though. Gentlebeings let's move this to a more private setting." Yos let the matter drop.

He advanced out of the Alpha Hanger with the two captains a half step behind him, as befell their position. His Imperial Guardsmen fell in behind the three, while his aides and several of the ship's officers followed in their wake.

"What is the news from Earth?" He asked, as the entourage made its way to the turbolifts.

_"_As you ordered_, Piper's_ getting under way again in the Pacific. Seco's finally lending them enough orbital support now that those Star Destroyers have been freed from duties around the two Target cities." Nake informed him.

"What do you mean 'finally'? Haven't they been getting the support they needed since the first day of orbital strikes?" Yos asked.

Yutu answered. "Moff Seco, in his duties as Theater Commander, believed that certain assets were better served elsewhere, mainly in the conquering of the two Target Cities, as well as an additional bombardment of an additional two hundred medium-sized Earth cities."

"A conquest that took a week longer than initially estimated, if I recall correctly. Perhaps Moff Seco was right?" Yos arrived at the turbolift, which snapped open at their approach.

Yutu continued, "Perhaps Sir, but he certainly deferred from your initial plan of invasion, and forces under the command of Moff Culter paid the price. _Piper_ has already tallied over sixty veteran clonetroopers killed in action on a dozen various islands in the Pacific. Admiral Bacara had to counteract several standing orders to get his starships into a position to give his ground forces any support. If he hadn't the casualties on our side could have been much worse."

"And why would Moff Seco willingly put those troopers in danger?" Yos asked. Nake and Yutu shared a nervous glance. Neither of them seemed to want to answer his line of questioning.

"Perhaps, he was trying to weaken a rival?" Nake suggested. "Scuttlebutt around the fleet is that our esteemed Ploo Moff has never been a big fan of _Piper_ or _Stork."_

"Neither of them give his Ploo Squadron any foreseeable benefit." Yutu suggested, "It's plausible that he held back support at Culter's expense."

"Troubling, indeed. Any other new intelligence from Earth in the past twelve hours?" Yos changed the subject. He would contemplate the unsettling motivations and bickering of his Moffs in his own time.

"Confirmation that _El Presidente_ in South America used a body double to lure those Storm Commandos into a trap in Columbia. He has released several broadcasts of his voice and image talking about events after the attack." Yutu sighed.

"What were our losses in that attack?" Nake asked, as Yos already knew the answer.

"Two dead, with another three wounded. Their _Nu_ shuttle was heavily damaged in the assassination attempt as well. They are pretty sure they killed the body double, not that that really matters. We did assess that the South Americans were moving at least five divisions through the Central America Zone when Moff Seco performed a limited Base Delta Zero on the area from Guatemala to Panama. Since we are no longer getting any significant life sign readings from that area, you can assume we are still well ahead of the game with El Presidente."

"These Terran scum are proving tediously sneaky though. What about the rest of the Execution Orders?" Yos asked as the turbolift opened up on the bridge level.

"Another confirmation on the Russian Federation's new President; he's their third in a week due to us. Two hours ago we located the bunker the United Kingdom was using to house the majority of its Parliament Ministers. The _Purgatory_ eliminated that particular target fifty minutes ago."

"What about the other top 'Elimination Directive'?" Yos growled, frustrated that his forces had yet to track down the being who had ordered the kidnapping of his only daughter. A man who, by all accounts, continued to rally his own beings and military forces against those of the 1st Martian Empire: The President of the North American Union.

"President Harris is still on the move somewhere in his Union. He doesn't broadcast as much as _El Presidente_, certainly, but I'm sure we'll track him down eventually." Yutu answered with complete confidence.

"How do you propose we do that?" Yos questioned.

Just then he turned and entered the Flag Bridge of the _Quill__,_ his entire entourage in tow. Seven heavily-armed, menacing beings stood at the edge of the crew pit, smirking threateningly at the sailors below. Everything about these beings screamed danger and the blue-robed Imperial Guardsmen took up positions around the beings.

"Your highness, may I present the Martian Bounty Hunter's Guild." Yutu announced. Yos went down the line. Each bounty hunter had the look of a seasoned killer to him.

Yutu started to make the introductions as Yos continued to study them. "This is Broosssk. He specializes in kidnappings and retrievals." The big green Trandoshan slapped his free arm across his chest in salute.

"My Lordssssship." The lizard nodded in respect. Yos just lifted an eyebrow and moved onto the next bounty hunter.

"This is IG-48, from the IG series. It specializes in hunting and decimating large groups of targets." The assassin droid just silently stood in front of Yos in stony ambivalence. Several lights on its faceplate blinked on and off. Yos had almost no faith in assassin droids, especially with his own history of battling droids during the Clone War, and as such moved on down the line.

"This here is Cato Succubi, she specializes in unorthodox techniques and infiltrations." The shapeshifting female Clawdite bounty hunter's face turned from alien to human in a few seconds. She took the appearance of a popular HoloDrama star and gave the Emperor a sexy wink. Yos snorted in amusement and continued his inspection.

"This is Tramgar, of Corellia. His reputation was earned hunting pirates in the Outer Rim of the Home Galaxy. He specializes in disintegration." The large Corellian male wore a strange mix of brown and black plastoid clone trooper armor, with a black cloth over his head that covered several circuit boards for enhanced auditory and visual systems. Yos studied the man's eyes, which burned with the sort of fire Yos had seen a hundred times before in veterans of the Clone War.

"My Emperor." Tramgar saluted much the same way Broosssk had a minute ago. Yos just nodded in response.

"This Zabrak is Sueme, he's. . . um, new," was all the description Yutu gave. The Zabrak male was a skinny teenager who wielded a dozen vibroblades in sheaths all over his body and had a sniper blaster that was twice as tall as his own heigth strapped to his back. The Zabrak teen was trying to look fearsome. He failed.

"The Rodian is Gleep. He specializes in data slicing, and has been trained by our military technicians in Earth dataware and commo devices." The green Rodian nodded. He had a large DataMine datapad strapped to his back and a dual pair of E-11 blasters holstered to his sides. Yos smirked; Rodian bounty hunters had a reputation as some of the best trackers in the Home Galaxy.

The last bounty hunter gave him pause. Obviously a female, the bounty hunter was dressed in the _beskar_-clad armor of a Mandolorian warrior, with a long, armored braid of blonde hair that went from her helmet to her waist, tied off at the bottom with weighted, durasteel spikes. She utilized a jet pack and her gauntlets contained holographic displays as well as flamethrowers and rocket launchers. Yos had no doubt her armor contained a dozen other concealed surprises as well.

"And what is your name, my dear?" Yos cut off Yutu before he could make the introduction of the serious looking female Mando.

"Nichole Felk," her electronic-amplified voice came across as a threatening whisper, "I specialize in everything."

"A Mandolorian, huh? I had heard there were a few of you on Mars, less than a dozen, as I recall reading in a report somewhere." Yos tried to probe the mysterious female for answers.

"Our _aliit_ is getting stronger. My two boys will be _verd_ in a few years, and my _vode_ keep gathering more _adiik_ as well." Her Mando'a intermingled with her Galactic Standard Basic, as if she was still on Mandolore. Yos knew she'd never give him their true numbers, just as he knew their habit of adoption gave them an ample supply of new Mandos of every species to draw new, youngling Mandolorians from.

He idly wondered how much Moff Kuat would pay to get his hands on her _beskar_ armor systems. Not his concern at the moment, he thought, as he turned to face the seven gathered bounty hunters again.

"Ladies and Gentlebeings, I am offering a reward of ten million credits for the bounty hunter that brings me President Harris of Earth's North American Union." The seven killers stood up a little straighter and some grinned from ear to ear. That many credits could pay for a very stellar retirement on Mars or one of her future colonies.

Nichole Felk spoke for the group, her electronic whisper filling the bridge, "What if he doesn't survive? He's worth a lot to me?"

"The Empire will compensate you if he dies." Yutu assured the bounty hunter. "Yes, shall we agree on half the credits if one of you becomes a little, shall we say, 'blaster-happy'."

Everyone on the bridge gave the young Zabrak a suspicious look. Yos wondered if the young rookie bounty hunter considered himself the weak link of the group. Somehow, Yos doubted it. "And no disintegrations."

Yos gave the hired killers one last look. "Dismissed." he barked as if they were some of his own sailors.

The bounty hunters sauntered off of the bridge, the Zabrak at the head as he rushed off filled with eagerness. The Trandoshan and Corellian saluted again, while the deadly appearing Mandolorian female never turned her back to him as she made her silent exit.

Captain Nake came up alongside of him. "Bounty hunters. We don't need their scum."

"Just another means to an end, my friend. Shall we find some more?" Yos suggested, before nodding to Yutu.

The Intelligence officer activated a HoloImager. A blue, real-time, three-dimensional map of a large fortified building appeared, "My Lord, I give you the Fort Knox Bullion Depository. . ."


	36. Cody 3

47th Combat Surgery Hospital, FEMA Emergency Camp Las Vegas, Henderson, Nevada, NAU

The exhausting desert heat that filled the tent along with the smell of iodine, sweat, and blood was almost stifling.

The President slowly made his way through the long rows of cots stretched along both sides of the white field hospital. Each bed was filled with an injured soldier. He was followed by a trio of nervous doctors who had been surprised by his sudden arrival at their hospital. They followed in silence as he visited the wounded.

"Excuse me, Sir." an orderly said from behind him. President Harris turned and noticed that the corpsman had an armful of plasma bags and looked to be in a hurry. He realized he was blocking the center aisle of the tent.

"Oh, sorry, son." Harris responded humbly as he stepped between two cots. The pair of Secret Service Agents who escorted him grudgingly made way for the soldier. The corpsman didn't say another word as he jogged to the end of one of the aisles and proceeded to hook up one of the bags to an IV stand beside a cot holding a man in tanker's coveralls.

A pair of civilian nurses monitored the entire ward with the assistance of several orderlies. Harris had been told the nurses had worked in an Emergency Room at a hospital in nearby Las Vegas before the war. Before he had entered the tent he had been told it was only one of dozens in this particular CSH's complex set up on the edge the Mojave.

Harris was highly aware of all the eyes that were watching him. He felt nervous and out of step in such a place. He knew that his own orders had landed a lot of these men in this situation, which is why he had forced himself to visit the hospital when his convoy had come across it during their trek west.

He looked down at one of the soldiers next to him. "Are you hurt bad, son?"

"Burns, Sir. Sixty percent of my right leg. Broken femur." The soldier lifted up a blanket that covered his lower body. His right leg was heavily bandaged and splinted. "Lots of guys got it a lot worse than me. Lots of guys are dead too."

Harris winced a little. "How did it happen?"

"Got it in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Well these burns are gonna stay with me for the rest of my life. The aliens blew the shit, oops sorry about the language, Sir."

"It's ok, I've heard a lot worse."

"I'll bet, Sir. Anyways, the aliens didn't hit Vegas with one of those bombardments from space. Instead they pummeled nearby Nellis Air Force Base pretty hard. Set the whole area ablaze. The local fire department didn't know what to do with a fire that big and pretty soon all of Sin City was burning. I was part of a convoy coming out of Fort Collins in Colorado heading for LA. They put us to work trying to help all the people fleeing the city. I got caught up at the MGM Grand. Fires were all up and down the Strip. Me and my squad got trapped in the casino when it collapsed. I got out but five guys didn't. We weren't firemen, Sir."

Harris nodded. Soldiers were dying far from the battlefield. Too much was being asked of these brave men and women. But if they were going to beat the Empire even more would be required from them before the end.

"You did fine, son. I know you did and your Union is proud of you."

"Thanks, Mr. President, Sir. I'll be fine in a month or so. Just as soon as the Docs give me my rifle back I'm gonna go out west and kick a little ET ass." The soldier said.

"Good for you. I bet you will, too." Harris patted the soldier on the shoulder.

The President went up and down the long line of beds. He made it a point to hear each soldier's story. He asked about their families and their hometowns. A few of them couldn't look him in the eye. Some asked for another shot at the aliens. The conviction and fervor in their voices humbled him. "You'll get your shot." He told a soldier who had come from the battlezone in LA.

A scream of pain came from a nearby triage tent. More soldiers were arriving from the battle out west, brought in to the makeshift hospital by any means the Army could find.

Harris went from one tent to another, stopping periodically to shake hands and talk to as many soldiers as he could. Hundreds of them had journeyed here from LA. Their mood was the same when they talked about the aliens. They felt as if they had been sucker punched by the Imperial's technology and deadly opening bombardment. They told him that they had been pushed off balance in the streets of Los Angeles from the get go and forced to retreat time and time again. Some of them said the Imperials had made a mistake by stopping when they did and hiding behind their mysterious forcefield. It gave the army a chance to recover and get ready for the next attack. All of them seemed assured that given half a chance they would go right back into LA and push the alien vermin from their world.

Harris liked what he was hearing. The soldiers had passion and conviction in their voices when they spoke of getting another crack at the aliens. He took it on faith that they would someday be victorious over the Imperials. His enemy may have won a battle but they were still a long way from winning the war.

He stopped beside the cot of a wounded female dressed in a navy flight-suit. A flight helmet sat underneath her cot. It was painted with icicles and had the callsign of 'Ice Queen' stenciled across the front. She wore a cast on her left arm and had deep scratches on that side of her face. He noticed another large bandage on the left side of her neck.

"How are you doing. . . Lieutenant?" He spotted her collar tabs as he started to greet her.

"I can't lie, Sir. I've been better." She smiled. She would have been considered quite pretty despite her wounds. "First Lieutenant Kazanski, VFA 81 out of NAS Oceana." She sat up in her cot and saluted.

"How did you get that?" Harris pointed at her cast.

"Harassment run at that new shield the Imps put up. One of their AA flak phasers decided to use our flight for target practice. They clipped my Super Hornet's tail section pretty good. Lost my port engine right away. I managed to keep her in the air for a little while but had to punch out somewhere over Palm Springs. When I came down I landed on top of one of those huge Joshua Tree cacti, which snapped my humerus and scratched me up something fierce." she explained.

"I'm just glad you were able to come down in one piece, Sailor." Harris said.

"Thank you, Sir. A lot of my buddies haven't been so lucky." Her voice seemed to fade away and her eyes glazed over as if she were remembering dogfights far away.

"How bad is it up there, Lieutenant?"

"Bad, Sir." She paused for a long time. Harris could tell she had much more to say and waited. He needed to know what it was like for the people who had to carry out his orders. Orders that were likely to get them killed.

"It's not what we trained for. You go up to meet those 'H' fighters up there and you're deaf, blind, and dumb from the start. We've got no radar, no commo, our weapons have no computer guidance and their fighters give off so little heat that our sidewinders shoot off after the sun or circle back at us because the ETs jam our IFF signals. We practically have to use hand signals to communicate with each other up there like we're some kind of World War One flying circus. Their phaser guns have an incredible range, almost as far as our missiles from what I've seen."

"Surely we must have some advantage over them?" Harris had hoped that a hundred years of Earth's aviation experience would be enough. That hope sounded foolish against a technologically sophisticated society that had already mastered intergalactic travel.

"Speed, Sir. They can't chase us worth a spit and they don't have any type of an afterburner to speak of. Which makes no sense because we've detected them going at unheard of speeds when they're out in orbit. It's when they have to come down and hit our air that they slow down to a crawl. It's as if they don't have a designated atmospheric fighter aircraft. The 'Hs' seem more suited for space than the Earth. And if we don't mind the horrendous casualties we can close with them at will and dogfight them some. Unlike their ground walkers, those 'H' fighters don't seem to like our bullets very much."

The President had heard some of this from classified intelligence reports but it was always better to hear it from pilots in the field. "So we have to get in close? Grab them by the belt sort of?"

"Even that's dangerous, Mr. President. Those 'Hs' can turn on a dime. They can pull g that would turn you and me into jelly. I don't know how they do it either. From what I've seen and heard they've got human pilots just like us. I've seen them side step a sidewinder and duck under a stinger. It's incredible. Lightyears beyond our own ability."

"That's a gap we're hoping to close someday."

"If you ever get a plane that can strike them on Mars sign me up as the pilot."

"You've more than earned the right for a little payback, Lieutenant. So why do you claim the aerial battle over LA is like nothing you've ever trained for?" Harris asked.

"At flight school we trained to dominate the three major areas of any conflict; Air, Land, and Sea. That's the way any war has been fought since cavemen starting clubbing each other. Now these Imps arrive and introduce a whole new theater; orbit. They swept our satelites from space and have a whole fleet up there that's just pounding us to pieces. Underneath that they've had no problem keeping control of air cover over LA. God, help the grounpounders, Sir, because the Air Force sure hasn't." She sighed.

He understood how helpless it must have looked to the pilots who witnessed their squadrons decimated from above. He wished he could have told her he had a new space fighter or laser gun that was going to sweep the Imperial Star Destroyers from Earth's near orbit. One day he would have something to tell her, he promised himself. He put his hand on her good shoulder to comfort her. She gave back a weak smile.

"This huge sacrifice the Union has suffered hasn't been in vain. I haven't given up hope. This is our planet: Air, land, sea, and space and we're going to take them all back."

**Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, Oceania, Earth**

Clone Marshall Commander Cody watched the city burn from the ridges of the nearby Owen Stanley Mountains. He wished he could say that all of the damage had been caused by his own troops, but the local abo prisoners had informed him that the slums of Port Moresby had been burning for decades.

He could smell the smoky braze from kilometers away in the sticky, tropical air. On the slopes below him several batteries of AV-7 cannons continued to pour withering artillery blasts onto the sinking wrecks of an Australian relief convoy in the Gulf of Papua that had tried to sneak into the city during the previous night.

They never had a chance as his V-19 Torrents had pounced on the convoy while still at sea. His ARC-170s had swept the skies of Australian and New Zealand air cover, while the Torrents had sent one warship after another to the murky bottom of the Coral Sea.

After the convoy failed to reach the besieged defenders of the island, the city as well as the nation of Papua New Guinea had surrendered to the forces under Cody's command.

To the west of his command a long column of beaten _soldiers,_ not troopers, he reminded himself of the odd Earth term, marched up the Kokada Trail towards captivity. The earth troopers were made up from the smashed remains of the 1st Royal Pacific Islands Regiment and the Australian 1st and 3rd Brigades.

Cody respected them for fighting as long as they had. Completely cut off, and with an orbital bombardment from the Star Destroyer _Fool_ that had flattened their lines_,_ they had continued to fight and keep his troopers out of the city for four days.

A far different defense than had been mounted during the drive across the Pacific of the past week. His 212th Attack Legion had conquered one island paradise after another, usually without having to blast a shot. Nauru, Kiribati, half of the Marshall Islands, Micronesia, and the Solomons had all thrown their hands up in surrender to his legion. Their reward had been the decimation of their beings as they were shipped off by the thousands to Luna Base on the Earth's local moon, and then onto the slave labor camps of Mars.

He had heard the reports of the slave uprising that had been put down on Mars. He didn't blame his troopers for letting so many infiltrators sneak into the masses of abos they had swept up. He simply didn't have the manpower to screen the hordes of prisoners that his forces were dealing with. He looked over at the trail again.

Along the jungle trail thousands of abo troopers marched with their heads held high between clonetrooper guards that lined the trail. Behind them marched another hundred thousand scraggly looking refugees. How was he supposed to screen all of them for infiltrators, he wondered?

The civilian abos looked terrified, as well they should be. Ahead of them _Sentinel_ shuttles packed full of prisoners lifted off towards Luna Base. He had read a top secret report that the prisoners who had passed health screenings on the local moon would be fed 'Smilie Spice'. The abos' worries would soon be over, he thought. If only the Jedi had fed their slave army of clones Smilie Spice during the war, maybe Order 66 may have never happened.

Behind him Lieutenant Birgann and several hyperspace radio operators commed with troopers in the city as they finished 'mopping up' operations. Evidently several of the tougher street gangs hadn't wanted to give up the ghost and surrender with their neighbors. They were paying the price for their refusal as Birgaan directed several companies to flatten the brutal thugs and the ruins they fought from.

Cody sighed. Across the sea lay more islands to conquer, more prisoners to round up, and unfortunately more of his brothers possibly lost in the fight. Already Operation _Piper_ had claimed the lives of over a hundred Kamino clones. _Vode_ that should have been enjoying retirement were instead blasting their way through another back-rocket war.

As if to tear himself from his dismal thoughts the nearby artillery battery let off another salvo just as an angry looking clone captain approached with two miserable appearing clonetroopers in tow.

The Clone Captain approached and saluted him. Cody turned to the trio and returned the salute. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Sir, I found these two, um. . _.consorting_ with female enemy civilians, Sir." The captain looked embarrassed to have to report his men's infraction. "They were getting their power couplings hooked up when they were discovered by field police in a hotel of ill repute inside the city."

Cody raised a concerned eyebrow. Since the very beginning of the invasion, the forces of _Tarkin's Fist_ had been briefed on how high the level of disease was dirtside. The strange new, sexually-transmitted maladies found on this planet were especially rampant and deadly. Fraternization with the enemy had not only been forbidden, but strongly dreaded by those in high command.

Cody, however, had been a young trooper once, "Troopers, you want to explain why you couldn't wait to go on leave and calibrate your Deeces once you got back to Culter City?" He filled his voice with as much anger and intimidation as he could muster. It must have worked as both _di'kut_ troopers appeared to be shaking in their armor as they took a dressing down from the commander of their Legion.

"Commander, they looked clean." The first trooper tried to explain.

"Clean?"

"Well, they didn't look like they had the Blue Shadow Virus or the Festering Plague." The second trooper hastily added.

"Those are diseases of the Empire, these beings around here are chock-full with _aruetii_ local plagues." Cody growled.

"Sorry Sir, it's just that these two piffers seemed like they were just looking for a good time. I don't think they knew the meaning of the word 'No'." The other trooper gave a slight laugh at his comrade's words. If they were looking for the right defense Cody's disapproving frown told them that they hadn't found it

"And what did they want in return? Credits? Food?"

"Um, No Sir. They wanted to be excluded from that." The second trooper pointed at the long line of prisoners marching towards the slave pens and the waiting _Sentinel_ shuttles.

"So you thought you would ignore your orders for a quick roll in the nerf straw? Troopers, you had better pass 'short-arm' inspection. Captain, place both of these troopers under quarantined guard until they pass an extensive medical screening. Also dock them two months' pay for disobeying standing orders." Both of the troopers' identical faces were crestfallen.

"Yes, Sir." The Captain saluted.

The crack of the slug as it whipped over Cody's shoulder, as well as the sickening, wet smack of it impacting the second trooper's face, got an instant response from the Clone Marshall.

Cody instinctively dropped to the ground. He hit hard and replaced his bucket before the dead trooper's body hit the dirt in front of him. It was a testament to their training that the other trooper and clone captain had responded just as quickly as Cody had.

"Jango's Bones!"

An abo machine-slugthrower erupted with its chatter from the tree line of the jungle a few hundred meters away.

The ripping noise the large slugthrower put out reminded him of a tapping buzzsaw. The enemy gunners concentrated their fire on the artillery pits further down the mountain's slope. A few dozen muzzle flashes marked the location of rifled slugthrowers in the jungle canopy.

"I count thirty rebel _hut'uun_ in the trees!" Birgaan yelled from his own position. His adjutant and the radio operators had taken cover behind the armored hull of his PX-4 Mobile Command Base.

Cody didn't need any urging to flatten out as more slugs tried to search him out. He switched to the thermal sites in his HUD and attempted to pick out targets. He pushed the blasting stub with his thumb. His DC-15A blaster rifle slammed against his shoulder. In between bolts he dug a scrape for himself with his entrenching tool.

Within half a minute proton mortars exploded amongst the earthling's positions. His _Vode_ had been cloned for war and had fought in them in one form or another for the better part of a decade and a half. They reacted on gut instinct and they did it instantly. The jungle erupted as hundreds of bolts from the headquarters company and the artillerymen returned blasts on their antagonists.

The abos in the trees were either dumb or stubborn, because they held their position, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Cody wondered why they didn't fade back into the woods once the element of surprise was lost. Already clone reinforcements were rushing up from the Kokoda Trail.

Cody thought he must have been the first to hear the noise. It was a steady, rhythmic thumping emanating from deeper in the jungle. From his prone position he glanced further up the mountainside: hundreds of birds were taking to the skies as something up there made the trees shake with its passage. The ear splitting crunch of trees being uprooted and torn apart reached even the clones in the pinned-down positions.

Each second the noise crept closer, until the jungle behind the abo position suddenly rang out with the blasting of dozens of laser cannons. The earthling ambush exploded outward. Their jungle positions either caught fire or were ripped apart by their new assailant in their rear. A last few surviving abos made the mistake of fleeing towards the Cody and his clones, only to be blasted from several sides by Cody's troopers.

In less than a minute the blasting stopped. Cody tentatively perked his helmet up higher, hoping not to attract a slug, as the thumping grew to a crescendo. At the moment it didn't sound as if it could have gotten any louder the treeline crumpled and collapsed as three large AT-OTs came crashing out of the jungle.

Along the top of the Open Transports dozens of clone ARF troopers lined the gunwales. One of the figures on top of the lead walker's caught his attention. The figure waved to him and Cody regained his feet and waved back.

The figure was dressed in the new anti-ballistic scout armor with yellow markings and a huge dualnode hyperspace radio set on his back that gave him the appearance of a large bug-male. The clone sported a pair of krayt-dragon pearl-handled sidearms and the lightsaber tucked into his belt left no doubt in Cody's mind as to who the clone's identity was.

The walker came to a halt in front of him. The clone on the cockpit didn't wait for the cargo ramp to be lowered, and instead leapt down to the walker's knee joint before bouncing off and landing in front of Cody.

"_Su'cay gar _Bly." Cody grinned as the medics took away the dead trooper next to him. The other Captain led the surviving trooper away to a quarantine, probably somewhere a lot safer than here.

"It's good to be alive, that's for sure." Bly laughed. Cody had been friends with Bly since their days on Kamino in the Marshall training course under the ARC commando Alpha-17. Bly's training as an ARC commando had led to him being tapped by Moff Seco to lead the Forward Observers around Target East.

From what Cody understood, his _vod _Bly had been instrumental in directing the orbital bombardment that had cut off the NAU city, and had kept the forces on the lesser continental mass too busy to notice what Cody and Admiral Bacara were up to out in the Pacific. Cody grasped Bly's forearm and pulled his brother in for a warm wookiee hug. Their plastoid armor clanged as they came into contact. "What are you doing way out here?"

"Things are slowing down at the landing zones. Now that they've got those fancy planetary shields over both of our footholds the vacheads in the fleet are refitting and refueling their Star Destroyers," Bly explained. "Moff Seco gave all of us Forward Observers leave and I decided to try to find myself a friendly, sunny beach somewhere. I talked to some abo prisoners in Target East and they suggested some place called Hawaii. Little did I know, _ner Cod'ika_ had already vaped the place."

"That sucks void, _vod_. We didn't leave anything there but a bunch of starving, diseased, and wounded abos. Fleet's been dumping all the rejects from Operation _Piper_ on Hawaii's outlying islands. If you stepped onto one of their beaches these days they'd probably eat you right up."

"The _aiwha-bait_ didn't clone me to be anyone's _shabla_ appetizer, that's for sure." Bly laughed. Bly removed his bucket and rubbed his hand over his closely shaven scalp. Like all of the other clones Bly sported the same face as Cody.

"So what takes you out here? I hadn't heard Bacara was going to cut you any orders to join us." Cody asked. Birgaan and a few other aides jogged up to see if he was a 100 percent after the ambush. Cody waved them away when they saw he was talking to another Marshall.

"I got a new mission, one that might just be up your hyperlane." A sly grin spread across his face.

"Oh? And how'd you plot that vector?" Cody asked, motioning for Birgaan to send clones into the treeline to search out any more possible rebels.

"I just came down from the _Fool_. Bacara's got a mission straight from the Emperor himself, could make us all very rich males. He also says that your 212th is going to be mopping up on this island for the better part of a week, and that you could use a little use a little R&R." Bly informed him.

"I wouldn't feel right leaving my _vode_ right now."

"Birgaan can run the 212th while you're away for a day or two. Besides, Gett and Salvo's legions are both in the neighborhood." Bly pointed to the jungle where the abo ambush had been sprung, which was now ablaze as several Incinerator troopers destroyed the near-human corpses lying amongst the collapsed tree trunks. "Military resistance has already surrendered, these rebel scum all shoot like a moisture-farmer militia."

"They got one of our _vode_." Cody pointed at the medics covering the clone who had been hit in the face at the beginning of the attack. He let the words hang in the air as Bly's shoulder's sagged.

"_Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la"_ Bly sighed. Cody agreed with his brother's sentiments. Their fallen _vode_ weren't gone, they were simply marching far away. Those words had prevented him from being overwhelmed with grief during the Clone War when so many of their brothers had fallen.

"Maybe you're right, I do need a break." Cody admitted.

"Of course, I'm right. When have I ever been wrong?" The ARC commando Marshall smiled.

"Well, there was that one time on Honoghr..." Bly reached his arm around Cody's neck and put him in a friendly head lock. Both brothers laughed.

It was a matter of moments for Cody to grab his equipment and leave instructions with Birgaan for the dispersion and deployment of the 212th Attack Legion while he was gone.

The two Marshall Commanders made their way to the nearest landing field, which was a clearing blasted out of the jungle canopy by the clone troopers. Several ground control airmen guided in a steady stream of MAATs that were in a constant flow of take-offs and landings. Overhead a flight of V-19 _Torrents_ kept a loose formation as they provided air cover, while dozens of _Sentinels_ flew back and forth from the slave pens further inland. High above in orbit, Cody could make out two _Acclamator_-class Assault Ships, the _Fool_ and the _Empress,_ providing orbital blast support.

Bly had an old _Kappa_-class shuttle waiting for them. Several squads of his ARF troopers rested in the shade of its wings. Some were eating MPETs while others were cleaning their blasters. They all snapped to attention when the two Marshalls appeared.

Bly just signaled for the commandos to follow them aboard. They boarded through the craft's forward entrance ramp and passed between a pair of stowed AT-PTs before finding a seat in the rear of the vehicle bay. The squads of Advanced Recon Force troopers took up their seats around the forward troop compartment. Some being had modified the craft by removing most of the seating and replaced it with several advanced blaster and armor maintenance workbenches.

A large CS-Mark 12 holoprojector took up most of the space in the center of the craft. A green-hued image of a large and intimidating fortress was being studied by the commandos while their boss Bly privately chatted with Cody.

"So these _vode_ are your Forward Observers? Very _Mandokarla_. Tough looking bunch." The commandos had slightly bigger builds to them than the normal clones. Cody knew the Kaminoans had mucked with the DNA of the ARCs and Nulls, but beside Bly and one or two others he didn't think this many had made it through the 'big jump'. These ARCs were all almost pure Jango.

"Bunch of softies, every one of them." Bly winked. "Don't let me fool you though; the two Target cities were no blue-milk runs."

"I bet."

"Let me ask you something. You ever hear of gold?"

"The color? Of course. Unless you're talking about Aurodium?" The rare metal was used as a backrocket currency in the Outer Rim of the Home Galaxy where credits had been short. It was also the standard in which Imperial and Old Republic credits set their value.

"One and the same, the abos call the metal gold after the color, I think?"

"Like calling that sweet fruit of theirs an orange, after orange?"

"Something like that. _Aruetii_ abos are a few starships short of a fleet, if you ask me. Still, the stuff spends the same no matter what you call it." Bly said.

"So what does this 'gold' have to do with me?" Cody asked.

Bly pointed at the hologram of the large fortification. "Some _shabla_ SigInt technician was slicing the Terran's internet and came across this place. They call it Fort Knox. According to several websites it houses upwards of four thousand metric tonnes of gold bullion."

"Stang." Cody whistled.

"You said it. _Vod_." Bly said. Cody felt the _Kappa_ lift off and rocket into orbit. The whine of her SFS-203 sublight engines filled the rear of the cabin. "That can provide a lot of retirement funds for a lot of _vode_."

"Is that what this is about?" Like most of the Kamino clones that had served in the Clone War, Cody was only twenty-six years old, but the double-aging effect of the cloning process left his body nearer to fifty. When they had been at the _Death Star_ construction site before the 'big jump' he had guessed that his body would be pushing seventy before that thing was complete.

"Of course that's what this is about. Bacara set this whole retirement thing up years ago as a means for us to retire from the Old Empire, but what would have happened under Palpatine? We would have all ended up on the streets of the Outer Rim begging for change from passerby or with a noodle in the back of the head from some clone assassin. You and I both know the only acceptable way out of the old Imperial Army for a clone was in a body bag. Emperor Yos has offered Bacara and us a cut of the loot because he knows we still have some of the best commandos in _Tarkin's Fist_."

"That's for sure." Cody remembered leading clone commando squads in the capture of both Mars and the Earth's local moon.

"We've also heard from Neyo."

"Oh?" Cody leaned forward. Their fellow Marshall Commander had been left behind on Mars after many of the clones had received clandestine instructions for reversing the Kaminoan aging process. No one was sure if it could be done or not, but Bacara had left Neyo in charge of finding out. "And what does Old Stiff-Lip have to say?"

"Not much, as usual. Just that the recipe is getting close to completion. He just needs some _aiwha-bait_ to stir the pot." Bly let the ominous words hang in the ozone-filled air.

"I heard a rumor some of the long-neck fishies had come along. They must have been the mystery cloners I read about on the HoloNews, the ones who cloned all those colonists for Earth 2."

"Bacara thought so, too. Neyo is looking into it hard. You heard he had a run in with a Jedi?"

"Fierfek. Yeah, I heard." Cody still felt like leaping out of his seat and grabbing his sidearm. Order 66 was ingrained in his psyche and the failure to complete that order had torn at him over the past decade. He silently cursed his old friend General Kenobi, wherever the old _hut'uun_ was. "Did he even think to complete Order 66?"

"Couldn't do it. I don't blame him because I couldn't do it twice." Bly got a distant look in his eyes, and Cody wondered if his brother's thoughts were suddenly back in the jungle on Felucia raising his blaster towards Jedi General Aayla Secura. Cody's gaze flicked on the lightsaber at Bly's side. "Besides, 66 has been revoked along with all of Palpatine's orders, and that comes from Emperor Yos himself."

"Feed me to the fishes of Naboo! It really is a whole New Empire up on Mars isn't it. So what does all this have to do with me?" Cody asked. Synthetic bright light started to pour into the compartment from the viewports. Cody glanced out of one of them, and noted they were entering a Star Destroyer's hanger bay for landing.

"You'll see." The loading ramp dropped down at the front of the _Kappa_ just seconds after the shuttle set down on the deck. The ARF commandos filed out of the craft in a hurry, followed by the two Marshalls, who strolled out into the middle of the busy hanger bay of an _Imperial I_-class Star Destroyer. Cody felt like putting his bucket back on just so he could use the polarized lenses for some eye protection against the hanger's glaring, overhead floodlamps.

The hanger was a madhouse of sights and sounds as a dozen shuttles of every make and model since the Clone War were hurriedly loaded by special forces troopers. Dozens of Imperial Navy officers and flight deck crewmen helped the loading process. Whatever the plan called for, Emperor Yos was throwing everything including the galley conservator at it.

"Welcome to the _Insertion_, Marshall Commander." a voice said from behind. Cody and Bly spun around to the sight of a mongrel Imperial Captain accompanied by a striking, blonde female in a gunnery officer's overalls.

Cody had to fight to take his eyes away from the beautiful officer and study the evident commander of the vessel. Everything about the mongrel screamed 'Danger'. Cody couldn't quite place what made him uneasy about the middle aged officer, but something was telling him the male couldn't be trusted.

"Captain Volt." Bly saluted. The Imperial returned the gesture. The blonde officer seemed to lean towards the Captain as her eyes moved up and down Cody's armor. The way her nose turned up at the sight of him, he felt like something the felinx drug in. Cody still couldn't quite get a read on the ranking officer though. "Sir," said Bly, "May I present Marshall Commander CC-2224 of the 212th Attack Legion and formally of the 7th Sky Corps."

"A pleasure CC-2224, Clone Marshall Commander CC-5052 here has assured me you're the right clone for this little venture we're attempting tonight." Volt said. Something about the way the officer stressed the word 'clone' and insisted on using their identifier numbers screamed high human culture. If Captain Volt wasn't at least a fully indoctrinated COMPNOR zealot Cody would be completely broggled.

"Yes, Sir. Bly here has informed me that we're going after a large aurodium vault" Cody stressed his brother's chosen name. He studied the Captain's face but the male's features gave nothing away. Cody knew enough to never want to play Sabacc against the officer. "Something along the scale of one of the old Banking Clan's depositories."

"A fair estimation. Nobody except maybe Emperor Palpatine himself knows how much the Muun were hiding away on Muunilinst or Mygeeto. Fleet Admiral Yos has estimated that tonight's target may hold about a third of either of those Home Galaxy treasury planets." Cody was curious about the captain's choice of honorifics, but knew now wasn't the time to push his suspicions.

"So what is my role in all of this, Sir?" Cody asked, as he started to get eager to punch up the coordinates on this mission.

"I thought Marshall Commander CC-5052 would have told you." The female officer seemed to scowl.

"Commander Eiryn, if you'd be so kind." The Captain offered, "It seems clone CC-2224 needs to be brought up to hyperspeed." Cody felt his patience start to thin.

"Of course, Captain," Her tone was too sweet and caring towards her superior officer. Once again Cody pretended not to notice. "While the _Insertion_ commences orbital bombardment operations against the NAU cities of Louisville and Bowling Green you, CC-2224, will lead the jet troopers and paratroopers of the Subterrel Squadron in a HALO insertion upon the roof of the Bullion Depository. Once there you will secure the roof and dispose of any defenses and guards your clones come across. Once all anti-airspeeder defenses have been neutralized CC-5054 will lead thirteen shuttles containing armor forces and commandos in securing the aurodium vault of the building. Once CC-5054 has done this the aurodium will be brought back aboard this vessel by MAAT/c transports."

"At which point your heavy turbolasers reduce Fort Knox to molten slag." Bly added.

"Yes," Commander Eiryn responded, "Though the nearby NAU army base has already been pounded from orbit once, during the initial bombardment of the planet. You should still expect the primitives to send some possible reinforcements from it during your assault."

"You two should see to your clones, Marshall Commander CC-2224 your jet troopers will deploy in," the Captain checked his chrono, "Seventeen minutes. Dismissed." Captain Volt and his stunning gunnery commander turned away from the two Marshalls and walked away towards another group of mongrel naval officers overseeing the loading of commandos aboard the shuttles parked around the hanger.

Cody still had a hundred questions he wanted to ask but realized there simply wasn't enough time.

"I'm sorry, _Vod_, we are kind of rushing this. We don't want the _di'kut_ abos to get wind of our intentions." Bly said.

"So all I have to do is secure the roof?"

"That's it. Keep the _aruetiise_ flak off of my shuttles long enough for my boys to land, and we'll take care of the heavy stuff. You might just walk away a rich _Mando'ad_." He grinned and laid a hand on Cody's shoulder, "I've got to go see to my troopers. Your boys are over at that MAAT/s over there." he pointed towards a shuttle near the hanger doors, several commandos were in the process of loading their final gear onboard and staring back in his direction. "They've already been briefed and know their mission. Just get them through and I'll see you on the ground. _K'oyacyi!"_

Bly turned and trotted off to his own troopers. Cody took a deep breath and walked over to his own at the MAAT/s. The jet and paratroopers snapped to attention at his arrival. The stealth transport's big Rothana engines started their warm-up as the pilots saw his approach.

A paratrooper Lieutenant saluted and held out an outstretched hand to help him onboard. Cody took it and stepped into the cargo compartment of the transport. A crew chief handed him a repulsor harness, made especially for HALO jumps during the Clone War. Cody was intimately familiar with the gear. Five four-man squads stared back at him as he entered. He could tell most of them were mongrels. Only a handful of them were Fett clones. He tried not to hold it against them, but he would have traded all of the mongrels for just one more ARC trooper.

"You boys ready!" he shouted, in order to gauge their spirit and to be heard over the craft's engines.

"Hurrah!" the commandos yelled. They'll do, Cody told himself. He took a seat between two Kamino clones.

The MAAT/s left the hanger somewhere in orbit above the NAU state of Ohio and quickly went south. Through the viewports in the crew doors Cody could make out a nearby TIE/WAC that was providing jamming support for the mission. The two Imperial craft crossed the border with the NAU state of Kentucky only ten minutes after Cody had talked with the Captain of the _Insertion_.

The MAAT/s was over the night-side of the planet, and the ground below was cast in darkness. Very few lights could be seen as the MAAT/s moved into position. The abos that hadn't lost their power in the ongoing attacks on their infrastructure were under mandatory blackout conditions across most of their world.

Lights flashed from the north as the _Insertion_ began its bombardment of the nearby city named Louisville. Cody breathed easier knowing the abos wouldn't be able to send support from that direction, nor from the south once the Star Destroyer put paid to another target named Bowling Green. A raging fire started in Louisville and Cody wondered how long it would burn before the earthlings below could contain it.

The crew cabin was lit by a single red light that barely illuminated the commandos at their crew benches. With their helmets on Cody couldn't gauge their jeeblies over the mission. Each jet trooper seemed crouched at their bench, as if they were a waiting nexu ready to pounce on an unsuspecting meal. Cody realized that even if they were mostly mongrels, each of them was still a professionally trained killing machine. They would have his back when they hit dirtside.

The light inside the cabin went from red to blue as the pilots indicated they were on station. The crew chief of the MAAT/s unpressurized the cabin doors and slid them to the rear before stepping out of the way.

Cody could instantly feel the chill if the thin air outside. They were so high up that if they hadn't had their buckets on they would have passed out from high altitude pulmonary or cerebral edema. Cody took a step to the edge of the doorway and paused for a half second, studying the darkened ground kilometers below. Then he took another step.

Cody immediately went into his free fall position. His helmet struggled to feed him oxygen while his body glove fought against hypoxia from the lack of pressure. He hoped none of his troopers or himself came down with a case of decompression sickness. His HUD told him that all twenty of the paratroopers and jet troopers were following right behind him in a military free fall formation.

He checked his altimeter as the formation passed eleven thousand meters; he knew he had reached terminal velocity several seconds before. Several loose cloud formations masked the on rushing ground below. Water condensation threatened to blur the lenses of his bucket. Cody switched to his nightviewer thermal sights and instantly picked up the fortress shape of the Bullion Depository along Highway 31W.

His advanced macrobinoculars inside his HUD helped him detect a few guards patrolling the rooftop and the gates of the facility, but there wasn't much sign of movement from within the nearby shattered army base or surrounding communities. At five thousand meters Cody engaged the repulsor lifts in his para-harness. The commandos behind him copied his actions. Still no signs of discovery from the earthlings below.

His speed rapidly decreased as he guided his force directly over the fortress. Several crew-served anti-airspeeder slugthrowers were visible on the rooftop now as Cody and his troopers descended through the last of the cloud cover over Fort Knox. Cody marked each of the weapons for a different squad to take on his HUD. Each squad leader acknowledged his commands with a short affirmative.

At two hundred meters they engaged their JT-12 jetpacks. Their tiny flames sparking like fireflies in the night sky. Several guards on the roof took immediate notice of the rapidly approaching danger as the commandos opened up with their jetpack warheads. The explosive projectiles smashed into each of the anti-airspeeder slugthrowers while the commando's DC-15 and E-11s opened up and sliced down the remaining guards on the rooftop.

Seven seconds later Cody's boots lightly touched down on the roof of the Bullion Depository. He took three seconds to scan the surrounding countryside. The building was circled by a large, open yard of grass, which Cody suspected was heavily mined, that ran until it hit a formidable death fence and forest a kilometer away.

Suddenly sirens screamed and floodlights lit the roof while searchlights erupted to probe the sky. Cody could just make out Bly's force coming down from orbit above. "Take out those kriffing lights!" Cody barked at his troopers who were landing all over the rooftop. The commandos went to work with a surgical vengeance. Their bolts smashed into hundreds of floodlights casting their world into darkness once again. Cody was relieved that some of them had engaged the blaring sirens as well.

One of his commandos shouted a warning and pointed below. An armored landspeeder of some sort had emerged from the front of the building escorted by several heavily armored guards. The small slugthrower of the landspeeder barked as its turret traversed and fired at the rooftop. Whatever the Depository was made of was tough stuff, Cody figured, as the slugs just bounced off of its side.

His commandos quickly dispatched the guards on the ground. Their anti-slug armor was no match for plasma bolts. A jet trooper fired a warhead that skewed the landspeeder sideways across the roadway leading up to the depository, but the turret atop the vehicle kept up its steady firing.

A paratrooper across the roof suddenly shouted out. Cody noted the non-electrical feeling to the shout as the trooper collapsed. Two of the trooper's buddies were helping the fallen man. "Body capacitance wires." A trooper said, pointing at several thin micro-filaments that ran along the edge of the roof. "Gave him a good shock. Knocked out his armor's systems."

"He's lucky to be alive. His body glove is probably all that saved him." Cody suggested at which the other trooper nodded in agreement.

With the banging coming from the landspeeder's slugthrower Cody barely heard the scraping noise of several hatches opening up in the corners of the rooftop. Mechanical whirs sounded out as automated machine-slugthrowers rose up on large tripods. "Get down!" Cody screamed as he hit the deck.

The slugthrowers tore into the commandos on the roof. One paratrooper was hit near Cody. The large caliber slugs ripped the man's left arm off. The male stared dumbly at his appendage as blood sprayed over Cody.

The commandos reacted instinctively on training. Cody moved towards the nearest slugthrower as it rattled out death at the commandos. His mind registered two of the slugthrowers exploding under the return fire of two squads of jet troopers. He activated his thermal detonator and tossed the explosive underneath the tripod of the droid slugthrower. An instant later a small explosion ripped the automated weapon from its mount, silencing it.

Cody turned quickly to witness the surviving commandos pour fire into the last slugthrower, which melted and slagged under their blasts. Three commandos lay dead upon the rooftop, including the one who had lost his arm. Four more had wounds that were being treated by their squadmates.

An explosion back in the main yard made Cody risk another look over the side. The armored landspeeder had blown itself in half as heavy blaster fire from Bly's arriving force sliced into it, cooking off its fuel and ammo.

_Lambdas_, MAATs, LAATs, _Nus_ and Bly's own _Kappa_ shuttle approached for a rapid landing. Their door gunners tore into the ground surrounding the Depository with turbolaser blasts, detonating mines under their landing zones across the large, grassy yard. The whine of TIE/In starfighters pierced the night as Imperial snubnose fighters provided air cover above them. If any abos had been asleep in the neighborhood they certainly were awake now.

Bly's shuttles landed with a thud a heartbeat before their squads of commandos poured out of the craft. Cody watched as the squads took up positions and fortified the perimeter of the depository yard within half a minute of landing. The yard was pitch black except for the small lights coming from scattered crew cabins, but with his thermal sites he picked out where several bunkers had been knocked out near the main gate during the assault landing.

Slug fire emitted from several small turrets on the corners of the fortress as guards inside opened fire with more machine slugthrowers and their own primitive thermal detonator launchers. Several MAATs in the sky above let loose with mass-driver missiles that silenced the guns and collapsed the small turrets. The yard was completely under Bly's control three minutes after Cody's boots hit the roof.

A LAAT/c came in for a landing, guided by Bly himself, who directed the craft to come to a halt directly in front of the large metal doors of the fortress. The dropship disengaged its cargo right where the Marshall wanted it. The LAAT/c wasted no time seeking altitude after dropping off its heavy payload; a SPHA/t walker.

Cody watched from the roof as Bly pointed at the massive door. The huge, crew-served weapon made a few adjustments to its aim and then unleashed the fury of its powerful turbolaser. The heavy blaster was designed to engage targets much more formidable than anything the abos could dream of.

Cody felt the vibrations of the turbolaser's impact through his boots. Cody leaned over the side to get a better view of the weapon's impact. A steady stream of laser energy was slowly turning the big metal door to slag. Loud popping noises were heard as the weight of the sagging entrance cracked its hinges as it sunk into itself.

Down in the yard Bly waved at the SPHA/t crew to cease fire. Several MAAT's dropped durasteel repulsor cables to the ground. Within seconds several commandos had them attached to the doorway. Bly signaled again, and the MAATs yanked the slags of molten metal out of the entrance.

Bly's ARF troopers led the charge into the building. For several moments the sounds of blasters and slugthrowers banging away at each other from close range rang out from the smoke filled entranceway. Bly's electronic amplified voice cut across the commando channel of his helmet's commo. "Endex. Repeat Endex."

Cody breathed a sigh of relief without dropping his guard in his overwatch position for a second. A moment later several ARF troopers led nine surviving Mint Police out into the yard. The earthlings looked as if they just went through a teras kasi match with a Gamorrean. Each of them sported several wounds, and most of them were bleeding from their ears, a sign they had come too close to the thermal detonators the ARF troopers used. Each abo wore a rebreather over his face, which Cody was curious about until Bly stated over the commo that the earthlings had flooded the place with some type of coma-gas.

Bly himself was inside the depository. Cody signaled the paratrooper lieutenant to continue to maintain the position on the roof and then he engaged his jetpack, jumped over the side of the building, and hovered down to the ground. Several ARF troopers saluted as he entered the gas-filled vault. His HUDs chemical warning system pinged a dozen alerts as he moved further into the structure.

The halls of the building were lit green by trooper's dropped glow rods and several emergency lights the fortress must have engaged when its defenders had lost power in the attack. Cody passed several darkened security stations and secured offices as he made his way into the bowels of the Bullion Depository.

Bodies were everywhere; most of them were the corpses of the defenders of the fortress, but here and there medics cleared out a half dozen commandos who had fallen in the assault. Cody came across several more of those automatic slugthrowers he had encountered on the roof. Their mechanical remains evidence to the fierce blaster fight that had erupted when the commandos stormed the Depository.

Cody found Bly standing in front of a formidable vault door commanding several experienced slicers and a pair of R2-series astromech droids that were trying to bypass the vault's security systems. Cody recognized several of the slicers as old Republic commandos that had been trained during the Clone War by the Null clone N-10, Jaing; the best data deceiver in the Grand Army of the Republic. If they couldn't bypass the vault door, then no one could.

The R2 units let out a series of happy sounding chirps, beeps, and whistles. "We're almost through. Eight combinations down, two to go." One of the slicers reported. Bly nodded before noticing Cody had entered the vault door room.

"_Su'cay gar _Cody. We're almost into the main vault." Bly reported.

"Wizard! Anything that'll slow us down?"

"Some smaller internal cells, but our slicers will crack them. The TIEs overhead aren't reporting any signs of a reaction force from the nearby NAU army base yet, but that might change in an hour. They destroyed several primitive attack chopters at Godman Army Airfield nearby before they could get off the ground. The _Insertion_ is reporting that the bombardment of Bowling Green is going stellar and that the skies are clear of abo airspeeders."

"I guess this was a blue-milk run after all." Cody grinned from ear to ear inside his bucket. He was never trained to imagine how much aurodium they were about to discover.

"We're through." One of the slicers announced, as they backed away from the large vault door along with the R2 units. As soon as they did water started to trickle from the cracks of the vault door as it came open. As it widened the water flowed out of the opening like a river. Several of the slicers were swept off of their feet, while one of the R2 units was washed down the wide hallway leading up to the vault.

"Pressurized flooding system. Designed to crush any intruder." Bly stated matter-of-factly "Was wondering if they'd have one of those. We're lucky they didn't pump an electrical current into it." The water came up to their knees before subsiding in unseen drainage grates. The slicers helped their comrades up to their feet again.

Bly stepped forward first, followed closely by Cody. "Great Galactic Core." Bly sighed.

"Holy mother of meteors." Cody exclaimed. They had entered a massive, sparsely lit chamber, and stood upon a series of overhead gantries. Below them the room was still filled with water only centimeters from the gantry. Cody and Bly shined their helmet lights down into the water and were greeted by the sight of a bantha-sized stack of yellow bricks.

Cody was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating. He was looking at a pile of enough aurodium to buy his own squadron of Star Destroyers. Relief washed over him as he recalled Admiral Bacara's dream of a clone refuge for the veterans of the Clone War and how the theft of this so-called gold would achieve their goals.

They panned their lights back and forth and were greeted by a seeming endless array of stacks of the expensive aurodium. ARF troopers pushed into the room and spread out along the gantry system. Their lights piercing the slowly receding water, a few of their electronic amplified whistles echoed through the vault.

"Trooper get down there and grab me a couple of bars." Bly ordered the nearest commando. The trooper obeyed instantly; jumping over the gantry rail and splashing onto a nearby stack. The trooper was thigh deep in water and bent at the waist to pick up several bars, which he handed up to the two Marshalls.

Bly hefted his bar back and forth, before banging it with a load metallic clang on the gantry railing. Cody studied his own bar. On its side in alternate basic it read, "0.0 troy ounces. Gotcha." Cody's gut started to knot, as the meaning of the words clicked in his brain.

The clone in the water held up another bar. "Sir, the bars under the first layer are much lighter and softer." The clone broke a bar he was holding in half, revealing a pinkish interior to the false aurodium. Bly looked down at the bar he was holding and then held it towards Cody. The bar had 'gold' paint chipped off of its side where Bly had smacked it on the railing, underneath the paint was lead.

Cody shined his light towards the bottom of the stacks. Several mechanical devices with small blinking numeric indicators counted down at the base of each pile. He gasped when he looked at the mushy bar in the clone's hands again.

"It's a trap!"

Bly and the ARF troopers were already turning as Cody began to run. The ARF trooper in the water dropped the brick and was scrambling to get back over the railing. The Marshalls sprinted past the R2 units at the vault door who beeped in confusion. "Everyone out! The place is going to blow!" Cody yelled over the commando commo channel. He had never felt his legs move so fast in his life, nor had he ever felt as if he were moving so slow.

They reached the entrance; where they were greeted by the sight of commandos fleeing in every direction. His jet troopers and paratroopers were already evacuating the rooftop when a deep rumble emerged from behind them.

Bly and Cody both flung themselves on the ground as a huge explosion erupted from deep inside the depository. The fortress was a testament to the earthling's construction skills as its walls held together under the force of the massive explosion. A tongue of flame and debris shot out of the entrance spreading out like flechette launcher shot across the yard.

A little over a dozen commandos has still been inside when the trap was sprung and Cody doubted their remains would ever be found. He helped Bly to his feet as the blast subsided. The rest of the commandos in the yard looked at each other in awe that the abos had fooled them.

Bly growled, "Fierfek, their _aruetycate_ internet told us where their aurodium was, but. . ." he never finished his sentence before a noise like a freight hovertrain pierced the night sky. A high-explosive slug the size of a landspeeder smashed down in the yard a few hundred yards away. The large caliber slug sliced right through a parked _Lambda_ shuttle.

The resulting explosion picked up Cody and slammed him to the ground. Commandos nearer to the blast were killed as the explosion engulfed them in flames or crushed their internal organs with the shockwave of its blast.

Cody started to get up when his ears picked up the screaming roar of another incoming slug. He flattened himself out just as a second round smashed into the opposite side of the depository. This time, the building's already damaged structure saved them some of the impact of the explosion. He waited a few seconds before turning to Bly.

"Those have got to be mounted on some kind of aquatic ship!" he shouted, the ringing in his ears caused by the explosion dampened all sound.

"Probably railway slugthrowers. Huge ones too!" Bly shouted back. Cody nodded that his brother was certainly right. "Got to call the _Insertion_ and have them taken out."

Bly sat up from where he had been sprawled out across the lawn and made the call. "_Insertion_ we need immediate counter-battery support. Repeat immediate counter-battery support on earthling railway artillery to the west of our position. Repeat west, estimate four zero kilometers, Over."

A communication technician for the orbiting Star Destroyer responded. "Negative CC-5052. _Insertion_ is currently engaged in suppression of Target Bowling Green. Captain Volt recommends dealing with enemy abos with forces under your own command, before extraditing aurodium to the _Insertion_."

"What? Tell Captain Volt it was a trap. There is no aurodium here. Repeat no aurodium here!" Bly yelled. Cody hit the ground in frustration as he knew the earthlings were currently reloading their heavy slugthrowers for another salvo. He frustratingly looked around the yard at commandos helping their wounded comrades to the dustoff LAAT/a, which was starting to become overcrowded with casualties.

Bly continued. "We need immediate bomber support!"

"Negative, all TIE/sa bombers are currently occupied." The hyperspace radio technician safe aboard the _Insertion_ responded.

Cody was momentarily stunned that the Navy was refusing to come to their aide. With a flutter of an eyelid inside his HUD he activated the commando channel again. "This is Marshall Commander CC-2224 ordering the immediate evacuation of all forces at Fort Knox. Time to kriffing bug-out, troopers!"

To emphasize his words another nerf-sized slug roared out of the sky to impact the ground in front of the SPHA-T still standing in front of the vault entrance. The blast picked up the enormous walker and tipped it on its side. Hatches popped open all along its side as surviving gunners helped their wounded and dead comrades out of the machine. Across the yard, Ion engines stared to whine as the remaining commandos sprinted for their transports.

That makes three heavy slugthrowers, Cody told himself, assured that the abos couldn't have reloaded the first two in such short time. He didn't want to stick around and find out if they had another one.

Bly was still arguing with the radioman aboard the _Insertion_ when Cody tugged at his shoulder. "Time to go _vod_. Its suicide to stay here!"

"No, not until we pay back the _aruetiise_ for this." Bly argued waving his arm at the carnage around him. The medics were loading up the last of the dead and wounded aboard the departing shuttles. Only a few escape craft remained. Cody peered at Bly's _Kappa_ nearby; the pilots waved urgently from the cockpit, but he had no fear they would leave without their Marshall.

"We've got to go now. I've already ordered our _vode_ to evacuate. In a minute it'll just be you and me, and I don't want to be around when more of those giant slugs come around."

Bly was in a rage. Cody knew his own blood was boiling at their abandonment by the orbiting Star Destroyer and the deviousness of the earthling's trap. Bly ignored Cody's warning and continued to shout into his commo for orbital support.

Cody paced the last of the shuttles alongside the _Kappa_ take off. By the light of the burning wreckage across the yard he made up his mind. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders, whipped his head backwards and then put all of his strength into a forward lounge. The two helmets came together in a Keldabe kiss as their buckets clanged in concert.

Bly went limp as the impact of the _Kov'nyn_ knocked him out cold. Cody bent down and hefted his brother over his own shoulders. His muscles barely noticed the burden as his adrenaline-filled legs raced for the loading ramp of the waiting _Kappa_. Several ARF troopers helped him with Bly once he was onboard.

Cody yelled at the pilots to get underway as the ramp closed up behind him. The shuttle lurched off the ground, its inertial dampeners preventing everyone from smashing into the hull due to the rapid take-off. A second later the craft broke the sound barrier as it raced for orbit.

Cody moved over to one of the armor tables. He stood in silence for a moment, contemplating what had just happened. All the frustration of the failed mission suddenly poured forth and Cody took it out on the table, ripping its front end from its floor mounts. With a guttural scream of rage he flipped the table over with a horrendous crash. The ARF troopers looked at him but none of them dared to speak.

Cody paced past the medic monitoring the still unconscious Bly and collapsed on one of the crew benches. He ripped off his helmet and flung it as hard as he could across the crew cabin. His mind was full of images of the commandos and clones they had left behind, and how much the promised aurodium would have helped the ones who still survived.

Cody put his face in his hands and wept.

At the landing zone behind them three giant slugs tore into the Bullion Depository, creating explosive geysers of fire and earth.


	37. Eritech 3

I-10 Interstate, Palm Springs, Upper California, NAU, Earth.

A gentle breeze was blowing most of the smoke from the charred ruins of the LA basin south towards Mexico, allowing the President to do without his gasmask for a few hours. Harris pulled his jacket tight against the cool night air of the dessert. The air out here in the high desert was thin and held very little heat once the sun went down. He pressed the high powered digital binoculars to his eyes and peered to the west.

Forty miles away the ongoing impacts from the American barrage allowed him to make out the shape of the alien forcefield that cut Los Angeles off from the rest of the Union. Flashes of light from faraway explosions lit up the western horizon like an oncoming lightning storm. A distant sound like thunder rolled in constantly from the artillery batteries assailing the alien positions.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President, Sir. I've got orders that you're not to go any closer than this." A fresh faced Marine Lieutenant informed him. The young officer was in charge of his small escort tonight. A pair of his best Secret Service agents nodded in agreement. They seemed poised to throw him in the back of their Humvee the instant trouble reared its ugly head.

Harris wasn't in the mood to argue. The shield was what he had left his escort back on the Upper Californian border to come out here and see. According to anyone he had spoken to this was as close as you needed to get. If he went closer and the Imperials caught a whiff that he was touring the Army entrenchments that surrounded LA he would only bring grief, in the form of an orbital bombardment, on the very soldiers he wanted to visit.

"Don't worry, son. I'm not going to talk you into disobeying your orders." Harris lowered the binoculars.

The officer looked visibly relieved though not completely convinced. Harris wondered if the Marine was contemplating restraining his Commander-in-Chief if the President took another step closer to the Imperial lines.

"Any idea how effective that is?" Harris pointed west.

"Sir?" The Marine looked confused.

"The barrage. Are we making any noticeable impact?"

"Honestly?"

"That'd be nice."

"None that I've of about, Sir. They've got some teams with some fancy doodads and gizmos that monitor energy fluctuations and such down in our own lines. From what I've gathered they haven't noticed much difference in the shield from when our artillery is smacking it around or when we're taking a break. The Generals just shoot at it cause they've got nothing better to do."

"It's got to be more effective than what the Chinese are doing." Harris said.

The Marine got suddenly quiet. "We heard about that, Sir. You're not thinking of ordering one of those suicidal human wave attacks the Chicoms are so hyped on, are you?"

"No, son. I promise you I'm not going to throw away more American lives. Especially on a fool's errand like that. The PLA's lost almost a million troops since the shield went up around Shanghai for all the good it's done them."

"Thank God, Sir. I don't think Americans have fought like that since my great-great grandpa took a minnie ball at Shiloh." The Marine looked relieved.

Harris had meant what he had said. The Union had already lost enough in this war and would probably lose many more before it was over but he would prevent as many needless deaths as he possibly could.

"Any word on when this fellow we're supposed to meet is going to show up?" Harris changed the subject.

"We got word a moment ago that he was picked up at the checkpoint down the road. Army Cav scouts are bringing him forward. Should be here momentarily." A Marine answered from a nearby Humvee. The soldier had been monitoring the land line that ran out the back of the vehicle.

"That should be them." The Lieutenant pointed up the road.

Harris heard them before he saw anything at all. The Secret Service and his Marine detachment took up defensive positions at the newcomers approach. A few seconds later three Kawasaki dirt bikes emerged out of the dark. They each slid to a stop before the President, sending up a small avalanche of dirt and stones.

Each of the bikes carried an Army Cavalry Scout. The three men wore helmets and night-vision gear as well as gas masks, which gave them the appearance of aliens from Mars, Harris thought, and then chuckled to himself at the irony. A man clung on for dear life on the back of one of the motorcycles. As soon as he saw the President he clumsily fell off the bike he had been riding. The soldiers saluted and then sped off into the darkness again.

The man was dressed in a maintenance utility suit, which he brushed clean of dirt as he regained his feet. He scooped a breifcase off the ground from where it had fallen during his less than graceful dismount from the dirt bike.

"Mr. President, I'm Dr. Elijah Openstien from the Los Alamos testing facility and the Department of Energy." The little man held out his hand which Harris firmly shook.

"I'm glad you could meet me out here tonight, Doctor. I know this is a little unorthodox." Harris greeted the scientist.

"That's quite alright, Mr. President. Nothing has been quite orthodox since those barbarian space-nazis showed up." Openstein pointed towards LA.

"Indeed. So you've inspected the shield then."

"Oh yes, been studying it in depth pretty much since it went up. Been attached to the 300th Intelligence Company as an advisor of sorts. They're the ones that sent me out to meet with you."

"What is your assessment of it?"

"Strong. Like nothing we've ever seen. The odd thing is it works on different phases."

"Such as?"

"Well it's permeable. The Imperials are air-breathers like us so they've got to let air into the city or else they'll suffocate. I've seen our boys use that to our advantage with chemical weapons and we've kept the gas flowing to their front lines near the edge of the shield."

Harris thought of the smoke cloud that was choking the Union. He thought it was a small victory that the Imperials suffered just as much as his people. "Anything else get through?"

"Yes, lasers." Openstein said.

Harris noticed the man needed to be prompted. "Go on."

"Well, their energy weapons have no issues with their own shield. They have snipers and artillery that routinely fire through the shield at all times. I asked one of our artillery guys about it and the man told me it was the same with our own laser range-finders. We got a solid state laser in close to check out if we could engage targets on the far side of the shield and the device had no trouble penetrating. Unfortunately, the device had to be held on a target for three minutes before any effect was noticed."

"And the Imperials had no issue with that?"

"Um, no, Sir. In a way. They blew it up after a minute or two. We haven't had a big laser to try out since then."

"And our kinetic shot is ineffectual?"

"From what I've witnessed. Even the Navy is concealing the rail-gun batteries they've brought forward. I don't think they want the Imperials to know they're in the neighborhood."

"What about one of your devices?"

"My devices, Mr. President?"

"You know what I'm talking about. What would be the effect of a nuclear strike on the shield?"

"I wouldn't know, Sir. If the shield held it would possibly reflect the blast back towards our own lines. Fallout would certainly blanket our Army here in Upper California. Even if the shield fails our casualties could be just as great as the enemy."

"You've been in contact with your colleagues across the Union, have you not? Do they concur?"

"For the most part they see the shield as an enigma. We want to hit it with something that's for sure we just aren't sure with what."

"The Air Force has briefed me that they're working on something that should be ready soon. I'd like you to monitor the effects of what they're planning."

"Of course, Sir."

"Any idea on when we'll get another device of our own to throw back at them?"

"It won't be soon, Mr. President. As you know they went after our nuclear arsenals pretty hard a couple of months before they landed. Destroyed all those silos and sunk hundreds of nuclear subs at sea. I don't need to tell you that they practically crippled us by taking out our nuclear reactors around the world as well as almost every production and testing site we used for our production. From what I've been led to believe orbital bombardment of those sites is still an almost daily occurrence."

"It is." Harris sadly conceded. "And its continuing to hurt us. We'll be fighting off the effects of a nuclear winter well into our grandchildren's generation from what even the most conservative of my science advisors tell me. And yet we still need to harness such energy. We damaged one of their Star Destroyers last year with a nuclear device. We know they're afraid of them."

"Any nuclear pile we've started comes under bombardment after a day or so by those starships of theirs. They must have some highly sophisticated radiation detection gear up there." Openstein said with a sigh.

"So why did the DOE want me to meet with you if you've got nothing to offer, Dr. Openstein?"

"Because of three little sheep that have lost their way." Openstein dug into a breifcase and brought out a single manila folder that he handed over to Harris.

The President carefully scanned the sheet. His eyebrows raised in surprise several times. "They're buried deep?"

"Almost a mile. Part of the experimental _Thor's Well_ project the Air Force and NASA were working on for the past decade. We had them down there years before the aliens even showed up in our system."

"Can they be moved?" Harris asked.

"No, Sir. If they are even so much as brought up from their current depth it's feared the Imperials will detect them. We can't even aim the things."

"In Canada too, near the _Weapon X_ project." Harris said.

"The Weapon what, Sir?" Openstein stammered.

"Never mind. Need to know and such. But this could be used in conjunction with another project?"

"I guess so, Sir. Of course it's all untested and theoretical at the moment. We could end up just shooting ourselves in the foot." Openstein admitted.

"Or we could just get the Imperials to notice they've got a lion by its tail here on Earth." Harris glared at a red star in the night sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Tarkin's Fist~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dirtside~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Admiral's Conference Room, _Imperial_-class I SD _Wilderness_, Earth Semi-Synchronous Orbit**

The naval officers gathered around the table raised their glasses as Moff Seco made a toast. "To the Empire."

"To the Empire." ISB Major Eritech echoed, though his sentiment was aimed towards the Empire they had left behind in the Home Galaxy. He held only disdain for the poor, local excuse for an Empire he found himself in these days.

He knocked back his flute of Domaine de la Maison sur le Lac in unison with the other officers in the gray, sterile room. Next to him Gunnery Commander Eiryn sipped on her glass of Alderaanian Emera. By far the most beautiful being in the room, she matched his smile when she saw him looking at her.

A naval steward offered him a new glass of Robert Mondavi Chardonnay 2024, supposedly an excellent Earth year, which had been seized as spoils of war from the planet below. Eritech had already tried a glass and didn't find it much to his liking, but the Ploo Moff was certainly fond of it. He gazed at the head of the oval, durasteel table where Moff Seco was enjoying his fourth glass of the aboriginal wine.

"No thank you. Another glass of Domaine, if you would." Eritech held up his flute for a refill.

It had been four days since the failed assault on the Fort Knox Bullion Depository. Well, at least failed as far as the trumped-up Emperor Yos was concerned. He had submitted a full report on the _Insertion's_ involvement in the engagement, along with a varied list of reasons his Star Destroyer had been unable to fully support the commandos on the ground.

For the most part the traitorous Emperor bought his excuses, and even his lackey in the Bureau of Operations, Captain Yutu, hadn't uncovered any deceit or disloyalty. As Moff Seco had guessed, the government of Mars would never suspect they had been duped by a Star Destroyer Captain in the vaunted Subterrel Squadron. If it had been one of the Ploo Squadron heads would have rolled, starting with Seco's,

The only unpleasantness had been the ire of the two returning Clone Marshals. They had to be restrained by their own men when they had come aboard his vessel after the failed mission. Now the two of them were back with their fellow clones in the Pacific, no doubt wishing harm upon his person. Why Emperor Palpatine had continued to let their kind serve in the Imperial Army after the Clone War was beyond him.

Underneath the table he felt Commander Eiryn's mischievous hand resting on the inner part of his thigh. They had come here tonight to celebrate victory but he feared his lover was being too bold in their current company.

The male and female officers around them were to the being, humans, combed carefully from the ranks of the _Tarkin's Fist_ for dissenters against the new throne. Moff Seco and his trusted Admiral Neptu had sought each of them out due to their loyalty to the old order. The secret cabal of officers included some of the top-ranking commanders and captains of the Ploo Squadron, as well as Eritech and Eiryn of the Subterrel.

Seco and Neptu were perhaps the only two beings in the new galaxy who knew he was a member of the dreaded Internal Security Bureau. Even Eiryn knew him only as Captain Volt, commander of the _Imperial I_-class Star Destroyer the _Insertion_.

Eritech smirked when he thought of his smaller group of loyal officers he had culled from the ranks of the _Insertion_. Those same officers had turned a blind eye when he had refused to support the commandos in Kentucky. Now ninety-seven of the best special forces troopers of the Anoat and Subterrel Squadrons lay dead while another hundred floated wounded aboard the Med-Star frigate the _Tourniquet_ in bacta tanks for the better part of the next campaign season.

The steward stepped away after refilling his glass. Moff Seco could afford the finest luxuries now that his scheme had come to fruition. Eritech chuckled to himself when he remembered the simplicity of it.

All eyes of the fleet had been upon the _Insertion_ and its mission to steal the aurodium from Fort Knox. Seco had discovered the trap that lay in wait for them days before when TIE/rc starfighters had come across hidden heavy rail slugthrowers camouflaged thirty kilometers from the Bullion Depository, at about the same time Yutu and his SigInt stooges had uncovered the existence of Fort Knox as an aurodium vault.

Seco had led his own intelligence troopers in a search for more aurodium. Already considered a rarity on Earth by its primitive natives, it was even more of a rarity back in the Home Galaxy. While the so-called Emperor of Mars and Captain Yutu had been monitoring the raid on Fort Knox, Moff Seco had led several raids that night under the guise of the continuing orbital strikes on infrastructure targets.

Small, fierce battles had been fought in the ruins of several Earth cities by Ploo Squadron commandos, but by the end of the night Seco had secured the slagged remains of several depositories around the planet. The biggest haul had been the five-thousand tonnes they had recovered from the buried remains of the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan. The commandos had estimated that almost a hundred earthlings had given their lives to defend the smoking rubble over the aurodium horde there.

The special forces of the Empire had buried the tenacious Terrans in a barrage of turbolaser blasts before sweeping in and looting the aurodium. The stubborn survivors had still been able to kill dozens of the Ploo commandos and heavily damage a MAAT/c during the attack. Eritech wondered when they would learn it was futile to resist the Empire, even the disgraceful one he now found himself in.

Commandos had swooped in on both the Deutsche Bundesbank and the European Central Bank in the wreckage of Target Frankfurt am Main for another four thousand tonnes. They had stealthily broke into the exotic sounding aurodium vaults of the Swiss National Bank, the Bank of Japan, Banca D'Italia, The Netherland Bank, and the French National Bank. Their transports had been busy in the North American Union as well; pillaging the Philadelphia and Denver Mints as well as the San Francisco Assay Office, the three secret locations of the 'gold' moved from Fort Knox.

When the night was over they had stolen upwards of forty percent of the enemy world's aurodium reserve for a small cost of several companies' worth of Ploo Squadron commandos. Moff Seco could now buy Mars if he wanted to, and most certainly the loyalties he needed for the next part of their plan. Eritech licked his lips when he thought of his cut for his part in their ruse.

Unfortunately some of the other members of their scheme were starting to get cold feet. "We should openly confront the Emperor now." the captain of the _Purgatory_ argued from across the table.

"Now would be too rash, don't you think." Admiral Neptu responded. "Emperor Yos is nothing more than a trumped up Fleet Admiral. His attention is on establishing his shaky new regime and he has Moffs Culter and Kuat in his back pocket along with their Sector Fleets."

Seco spoke as talk around the table died down, "Military-wise we are currently outnumbered three-to-one, with the majority of vessels in this fleet more apt to respond to orders issued from the _Quill_ rather than my own _Wilderness_. I believe that if the head was removed, the body would either wither or grasp around for another head to place on top. We need to use our new funds to buy the loyalty of key officers if we are to move quickly with our plans. For instance we still don't have a man that is willing to do the deed himself."

Though no one said the words outright, Eritech's mouth salivated at the thought of a coup against the current Martian regime. In his private talks with Moff Seco, the Ploo Governor had assured him of a return to the old established ways of the 1st Galactic Empire. Eritech knew Seco had his own issues with Palpatine's enforcer, the Dark Lord Darth Vader, which was why Tarkin had initially tapped him for the Maw Defense Fleet, but he had always been loyal to Palpatine.

With the usurper Yos eliminated the military forces of Mars would fall in line behind the strongest leader. With an entire Star Destroyer squadron and more aurodium than Empress Teta's ghost there would be no doubt who that leader would be.

Eritech had been promised the position of Director of the Bureau of Operations. He promised himself he would personally carry out the executions of its current trio of captains; Yutu, Dual, and Charge, before he reestablished it as the Imperial Martian Security Bureau.

Eiryn had listened to him with glee about how he would return High Human Culture to Mars, and how she would be given command of one of the Star Destroyers of the Subterrel Squadron. Seco had guaranteed a mission to reconnect with the Old Empire. Eritech dreamed of the day he could report on Tarkin's treachery in Palpatine's throne room on Imperial Center.

"The next phase of our plan will ensure that the army and navy do just that." Eritech announced. He had been privy to Seco's council for several weeks now and knew his high placement in the Subterrel Squadron would make or break their plans.

"Yes, Captain Volt and Admiral Neptu will be traveling to Mars tomorrow morning to meet with the Emperor. Ideally, the Emperor will think they are there to discuss the next phases of the Empire-Earth War now that the Target Cities have been secured. They will do this of course, as the happy little loyalists they are," Several chuckles came from around the table, "But our primary goal will be getting Yos to sign a new set of contingency orders."

Eritech explained, "Since Yos has vetoed all of Palpatine's standing and contingency orders such as Order 66 he needs a new set of plans and structure to run his new Empire and military. We've codenamed the Fleet Reaction Plan, Operation _Diathim,_ initially named by Naval Intelligence after the winged angels that inhabit the moons of Iego."

Eiryn's voice kept the small group entranced during her informal briefing. "The plan states that should anything happen to the current head of state during a declared state of war all Military and Police forces of Mars shall take their orders from the local Moff in charge of Theater Operations." All the heads in the room turned to Moff Seco, who offered an innocent grin.

Eritech let Eiryn continue. "Since no one can be sure when _something_ may happen to our 'esteemed' Emperor Yos, all of you must be at the ready to move at a moment's notice. Especially to secure the cooperation of the warships in the Anoat and Kuati Squadrons."

Eritech breathed deeply as he stared at the stunning woman next to him. She had no idea what could and probably would befall the usurper Yos, just as she had no idea of the weapon hidden under the bed she shared with him every night. While she appeared to have complete trust in him since they had become lovers, there was still so much he hadn't told her. His ISB training would never allow himself to fully trust anyone.

"What about the Princess? My sailors won't like the idea of harming Phasma Yos." the captain of the _Limbo_ asked.

Eritech pushed down a growl in his belly. If he had his way he would place his sidearm between the Princess's pretty, brown eyes and squeeze the trigger until the tibanna ran dry. The ISB had given him nerves of durasteel and he was fully prepared to exercise his duty. The squeamishness of the other captains over the elimination of a mere girl who was hardly more than a youngling, disgusted him. They should be honored to get the chance to serve Palpatine by eliminating such an obvious threat to the Empire.

All-in-all, he hardly considered the Princess a threat. When the time came Seco would order the Culter City Guard to place her under arrest. Then Phasma's disposal could be dealt with at a more leisurely pace, maybe with a show trial for the populace's entertainment. Eritech grinned when he imagined the charges they could bring against the twelve year old. After all, wasn't it her bumbling capture that had initiated this war in the first place.

He pushed thoughts of the younger Yos aside. "Your sailors will follow their orders like proper Imperials. My crew will obey any directive I decree." He disdainfully told his fellow captain. He had carefully gathered the officer corps of his own vessel so closely that he had no thoughts of a mutiny even as he helped Moff Seco scheme against their former Fleet Admiral.

"Sailors have other ways of showing their disapproval other than refusing to follow your orders." The other captain warned. Eritech had no idea what the male was getting at. Sailors took an oath to serve the Empire. Any traitor would surely show himself to be a coward when faced with the durasteel reserve of a true male of the Empire.

"A subject for another time, perhaps." Moff Seco interjected before the argument could get heated. The governor's coalition was a loose one at best; the horde of aurodium would surely make it stronger. "Captain Volt, I have quarters assigned aboard this starship for your companion and yourself. You and Admiral Hadrian will leave tomorrow for Mars, in an effort to have Emperor Yos implement Operation _Diathim_ as standing orders for all of _Tarkin's Fist_. If he does, we will have the means to move against him with impunity."

"I look forward to it, Sir. You can count on the Admiral and myself to carry out our part of the plan." He glared across at the wavering commander of the _Limbo_ with whom he had been about to argue so that the man understood what a true Imperial officer looked like.

Moff Seco's small, celebratory gathering of his trusted cabal broke up shortly after that. Seco had issued guest cabins to the Imperial officers who weren't returning directly to their commands.

Eritech made it no further than the hallway in front of Commander Eiryn's quarters before the alluring gunnery officer pulled him inside. The female Imperial launched her seductive assault the moment the door closed. Eritech mounted several things that night, but a successful defense against Eiryn's charms wasn't one of them.

The night passed most pleasantly.

A mixture of lingering alcohol and lack of sleep left the undercover agent in a state of groggy confusion when he heard the rapping of metallic knuckles upon the cabin's door early the next morning. Eritech crawled out of bed and slipped on a robe, taking a moment to admire the sleeping form of his starship's alluring Gunnery Commander. It must come from working around heavy blasters her whole career, but Eiryn didn't even stir at the knocking sounds coming from the doorway.

A silver protocol droid awaited him as he answered the doorway. "Captain Volt?" It inquired in an effeminate tone.

"Yes."

"Admiral Neptu suspected I would find you in these quarters. I am to inform you that he will be expecting you at his shuttle in the Assault Hanger in one hour for your trip to Mars."

"Thank you. Let the Admiral know I will be there." Eritech pushed the door control and closed the door, leaving the droid outside to complete its task.

He decided to skip breakfast and jumped into Eiryn's sonic shower. The ultrasonic vibrations quickly cleaned him of any sweat and grime he had acquired the night before. Luckily the bite marks Eiryn had left on his torso would be covered by his uniform.

Ten minutes later he emerged from the refresher fully clothed. He stared for a moment at Eiryn's sleeping form, thankful that she still hadn't woken. She was full of an insatiable desire and knew he wouldn't have time to finish anything if he got her started again.

He picked up her datapad on her nightstand and left her orders to return to the _Insertion_ once she awoke. His Star Destroyer had moved in the past few days from orbit over the North American Union to the skies over the European Union, where it had joined in the bombardment of the Dardanelles and the Bosporus. It had been hoped that a limited Base Delta Zero operation there would impede military movement into Asia through the highly trafficked region.

Eritech was disappointed that he wouldn't be present when the _Insertion_ finally got to use her heavy turbolasers at full strength, but he wouldn't deny Eiryn the opportunity to utilize her big blasters just to twiddle her thumbs here on the _Wilderness_ awaiting his return.

He arrived early in the Assault Hanger. Admiral Neptu and a few aides were already there awaiting his arrival. After exchanging salutes, the whole gathering boarded Neptu's _Lambda_-class shuttle for takeoff. Eritech was relieved that naval stewards had laid out a breakfast of rolls and caf for their two hour trip to the capital world.

Eritech sat by one of the viewports in the passenger cabin and noticed a large black scar on the surface of the world below. Smoke bellowed out from it and drifted for hundreds of kilometers to the east, sporadically covering an island-filled sea nearby. "That must be Central America?" Eritech noted.

Admiral Neptu had been reading the morning HoloNews on his datapad, which he placed face-down in his lap before peering out of his own viewport. "Yes, the Union of South American Nations was moving their army through the area so Moff Seco thought it expedient to eliminate the whole zone. It took the _Flood_, _Battle of Coruscant_, and the _Kuat's Might_ forty-five minutes to reduce the target."

"I heard about that. Fleet Intelligence believes almost a half dozen southern divisions were caught in the blast." Eritech chose not to voice his lowly opinion of his old enemies in the military's intelligence service. "I wonder how many abos we blasted in just that single limited Base Delta Zero?"

"I'd guess thirty to forty million. It's a pretty crowded planet." Neptu suggested, returning to his HoloNews. "Should give the rest of them something to think about."

"Amazing they haven't surrendered yet." Eritech said quietly as the _Lambda_ shot off into space.

He slowly turned his attention to the mission ahead and found himself growing nervous. Admiral Neptu would introduce him to the usurper Emperor Yos, at which point Eritech would present him with the updated version of _Diathim_ for the Emperor's approval.

Eritech had never met the trumped-up Fleet Admiral personally. He had been in his company only a handful of times and always in the presence of a large group of fellow naval officers where it had been easy to hide his scorn for the traitor. Even his appointment as commander of the _Insertion_ and replacement of the late Captain Halser had been done by a messenger from Fleet Headquarters at Tarkin Tower.

Now he would be face to face with the man he hated most in this new galaxy and it would take every bit of skill the ISB had taught him not to reveal anything. The fate of the Empire would stand or fall on his performance today.

He whispered to himself, careful not to draw the attention of the other officers in the cabin, "I swear by the Core this sacred oath. That I shall render unconditional obedience to Palpatine, the Emperor of the 1st Galactic Empire, and that I shall at all times be prepared, as a brave trooper, to give my life for this oath." Once the words were spoken he was mentally ready to do his duty.

Eritech avoided the small talk of Neptu's junior officers as they approached the red planet. After some time the pilot announced they were on approach to Culter City. Eritech gazed out the window and spotted the sprawling KDY driveyards as the shuttle cruised by. Workers by the tens of thousands worked on several starship hulls and keels in the vacuum of space. Eritech smiled, thinking those vessels would eventually serve a different leader than the one they were being constructed for.

The ISB mole tensed in his seat when he spotted the _Imperial_-class _II_ Star Destroyer _Quill_ in geosynchronous orbit near the driveyards. The Fleet Admiral's flagship was the most powerful warship in the system and symbolized everything that was diabolically traitorous about the Martian regime.

The shuttle descended into the atmosphere through a thin cloud layer. Below them the metropolis of Culter City emerged, choking the Ares Vallis full of red pourstone constructions. Eritech was surprised by the rapid growth of the city since his last visit, only a few weeks before at Yos's mockery of a coronation.

The shuttle dipped into the busy skyways of the city and headed straight for the tallest structure on the horizon. The soaring Tarkin Tower sat along the Yos River that bisected the city, dwarfing the Imperial Martian Palace grounds that lay beside it.

The shuttle landed on the far side of the military headquarters of _Tarkin's Fist_, away from the imperial residence. Several white-clad stormtroopers and a marine officer waited on the landing pad. Once the landing jets vented their gases the loading ramp dropped down and Admiral Neptu led the entourage out of the craft.

The group of officers walked up a flight of wide marble stairs, at the top Eritech spotted a group of waiting adjutants quietly smoking cigarras, a clique of devoted traitor scum. In the group was Captain Charge, the wormy Director of the Bureau of Operations in charge of maintaining the fleet. He watched Eritech pass, aloof. Eritech instantly hated him.

Just then Eritech was greeted by two blue-armored Imperial Guardsmen who moved to physically search him, one his body, the other his valise.

"You don't need to search him." Admrial Neptu approached, waving off the Imperial Guardsmen. "Captain Volt is an honored guest. The hero of the _Insertion_."

The Guardsmen silently stood down and backed away. Neptu and Eritech shared a friendly smile. "They're waiting for us."

They moved through the secured lobby of the building, past beautiful Twilek receptionists and more stormtroopers of the Home Legion, until they reached the turbolifts that whisked them over a hundred stories into the sky. More Imperial Guardsmen and a small squad of aides awaited them as they exited the turbolift. Admiral Neptu waved them away. Neptu's aides fell back as Eritech and Neptu entered the room to the last sound they would have expected. Laughter. Drunken laughter.

Emperor Yos and five men, some of them almost caricatures because their features were so distinct, sat around the large round room. Various alcoholic drinks filled the tumblers in their hands. The first man Eritech recognized was Moff Kuat, the elderly Kuati that had been the face of KDY since before Eritech was even born. The others he knew from the HoloNews; Captains Dual and Yutu of the Bureau of Operations, Captain Nake of the _Quill_, and Admiral Hadrian of the Kuati Third Navy.

They had arrived in the sanctum sanatorium of _Tarkin's Fist_. A series of situation HoloMaps of Earth were scattered around the room, ignored.

Only Captain Yutu seemed to be reserved, smiling politely but clearly tuned into the present reality. It was the first time Eritech was allowed a clear, unobstructed view of his ultimate enemy, the usurper Yos.

Neptu stepped forward and saluted, "My Emperor... I wish to present Captain Tolos Volt, the new commander of the _Imperial_-class I Star Destroyer _Insertion_ of the Subterrel Squadron."

The laughter stopped. Yos and his cronies turned toward Eritech, looking him over. Yos stood and crossed over to him. Neptu met him first, he whispered in the Emperor's ear, perhaps he reminded him who Eritech was. Yos nodded: "Ah yes." He took Eritech's left hand with both of his. The spy was surprised by the usurper's charm.

"May I say, I am honored to meet a hero who has fought so bravely for the Empire. If only more of my officers were like you."

Yos's cronies smiled on despite the subtle insult to themselves. To make it worse, Yos turned to them. "Let this male stand as an example to all of you. He is the ideal Imperial officer."

Eritech was carefull to hide the growing smile caused by the irony of Yos's statement.

Neptu nervously cleared his throat. "My Emperor, we have asked Volt here today so that he might brief us on mobilizing troops from the Home Legion to support those on Earth."

"Hmmm? Oh yes, Earth. That will no longer be necessary. Theater Commander Moff Seco has assured me that Earth is under control."

Eritech stepped forward suddenly, "My Lord, if I may. . . The situation on Earth is. . ."

"You're dismissed, Volt." Captain Nake suddenly announced, afraid Eritech might reveal some flaw in his Emperor's battle plan.

"But," He knew he must act fast, as at any second he would be ushered out of the Emperor's presence. "We need your Lordship's approval on a revised edition of Operation _Diathim_."

"Ah, _Diathim_." Yos got a faraway look in his eyes as Eritech assumed the old man was trying to place the name. "A good plan, as I recall. Do you have the new revision with you?"

Eritech quickly opened his valise and removed the pertinent datapad. In his eagerness he almost thrust the device into the usurper's chest. "Here it is, My Emperor. It includes new dispositions and the continuance of command and orders for troops and warships in regards to regime change."

Yos took the document and set it on a nearby repulsorlift table. Eritech watched as the Martian leader made a small show of skimming the set of orders. Yos nodded his head that everything seemed in order, not digging too deeply into the datapad's agenda. The Emperor signed the datapad and handed it back to Eritech. He gave a slight dismissive wave to the ISB agent and turned back to his cronies.

Captain Nake spoke again, "Send your man home, Neptu. Then bring us some Corellian brandy."

Neptu was visibly stung, a man of his rank being treated like a waiter. Eritech stepped back, clicked his heels and saluted, just managing to blurt out: "Long live the Empire." Yos half waved a return salute and walked slowly back to his seat.

Eritech and Neptu turned and left the room. They said nothing as they reentered the turbolifts. Eritech was shaken by his proximity to Yos while he could tell Neptu was trying to hide his anger over Captain Nake's disrespect.

The senior officer leaned over and whispered. "I don't know when you are going to kick this thing off that you have brewing, but when the music stops I would be very much obliged if Nake found himself without a chair."

They're all insane, totally disconnected from the true Empire, Eritech believed. "Tell Seco we've found our assassin..." Neptu offered a confused look so Eritech added, "I'll do it myself."


	38. Dusel 3

Lake Havasu City, Arizona, NAU, Earth

The President rejoined his convoy after his brief sojourn out west to observe the alien shield, a shield that remained unwavering even after two weeks of ceaseless American shelling and bombardment.

He now felt as if he were close enough to the action but not so close to be getting under foot of the soldiers who were trying to defend his homeland.

Scattered around the lake and the surrounding desert the collection of SUVs and motorhomes housed some of the most essential people that in North American Union. Most of his cabinet secretaries, or at least their junior secretaries, were present, as well as various military representatives. The generals who had accompanied him across the United States were now off west commanding troops in the field.

He had almost a hundred Secret Service agents as well as almost three hundred National Guard soldiers from a dozen different states scattered around the perimeter of his camp. The local citizens of Lake Havasu had shared what little food they still had, but his security detachment still feared that every one of them was a security risk. It wouldn't take much for one of them to get across the desert and tell the Imperials where the President was hiding, considering Arizona voters had turned out in droves during the last election to vote for his opponent. In a few days the convoy would move again. Harris believed his protection detail's fears were unwarranted after what the aliens had done to the Union, but the Secret Service wasn't taking any chances.

Out of habit, Harris took a morning stroll to clear his mind. Normally it would have been an opportunity for some fresh air and quiet reflection but the gargantuan smoke clouds pouring out of the LA basin and San Diego were rolling across the Colorado River from the southwest. Ash rained down like snow across the desert. He wore a protective, air-conditioned MOPP suit his guards had insisted he wear as protection from the toxins in the air. Though he had worn it before the rubber suit still made him feel as if he were wearing his own claustrophobic greenhouse.

He picked up a rock and flung it into the muck that was covering the surface of Lake Havasu. Instead of making a splash the stone bounced off a thick patch of oily sludge on the surface before hitting a floating cactus trunk and then sinking in the midst of a circle of dead fish. Just the year before this area would have been choked full of half-naked college kids celebrating spring break.

Now those same college kids, if they survived, were wearing a different uniform and were doing their best to serve their Union, he hoped.

His protection detail wore environmental suits of their own as they hung back from him at a distance of forty yards or so. One of them waved to get his attention. Another aide had approached them. No doubt with more bad news, Harris thought.

Knowing that his brief moment of solitude was already interrupted Harris waved for the agents to let the man pass. He recognized the newcomer as the undersecretary to the Treasury Secretary, who had gone missing when Washington had been bombarded on the first day of the war.

"Good morning, Cordell." Harris greeted the skinny underling who had been bumped up into his former boss's position.

"Good morning, Mr. President. Well, maybe not a 'good' morning after what I've got to report." Cordell said.

"Might as well give it to me straight. We've got too much on our plate to deal with besides you hem-hawing out here in the desert."

"Um, yes Sir. Well, um, two nights ago the Fort Knox Bullion Depository was raided by forces under the command of the Empire." Cordell said.

Harris knew it was coming. The National Security Agency had wanted to lay a trap. From what he understood of the plan the gold had been removed several weeks ago. What alarmed him was that it took two days for the news to reach out west. "And how did our little trap work out?"

"You knew about that, Sir. Um, of course you did. Well the engagement lasted less than an hour from when the aliens set down to when they evacuated the grounds of the vault. I lost forty-three members of the mint police while the Army confirmed sixty-eight enemy combatants killed at the site. One of the NSA agents told me they suspect the aliens may have evacuated more of their casualties back up to orbit. So we may never know the true extent of their casualties."

"And they didn't get away with a single bar of gold either." Harris chuckled.

"Well that's what I came to tell you about, Sir. Um, we got hit simultaneously by almost a half dozen other raids across the Union. They hit the reserve sites."

"What? Where? How much did they get away with?" Harris sputtered. His hands balled into fists in anger at his sides.

"We're estimating nine thousand tonnes of pure gold. Their largest haul was when they hit the excavation dig site at the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan. But inside the Union they also robbed the Denver and Philadelphia Mints, as well as the San Francisco Assay Office."

"The three sites where we hid the bullion from Fort Knox?" Harris asked. He felt a sense of shock creeping through his veins. It was strange that they still raided Fort Knox if they knew we had moved the bullion."

"Yes, the vaults that were hit were outside of their respective cities and were thought to be ignored by the roving Imperial Fleet. The FBI and CIA have both informed me that they believe large amounts of our encryption system may be compromised. What little remains of the internet certainly is. I fear that our efforts didn't go as unnoticed as we had hoped."

"No. They wouldn't. Not when the Empire controls the space above us and can look down on us whenever they like. What is the immediate effect?" Harris asked. Worry filled his voice. "We haven't been on the Gold Standard since the days of Tricky Dick."

"That's true, Sir. The Amero was quickly gaining strength with the build-up for the war. It never has been as strong as the dollar it replaced but with all of North America gearing up on a war footing since the arrival of the Empire we had hoped that inflation and interest would continue to stay low. Now the carpet has been pulled out from underneath it. There's almost nothing backing our currency except the good faith of the North American people. Internet trading has all but collapsed already due to the loss of so many of the world wide webs' major nods and servers. On some of the surviving foreign exchanges our currency is already starting to waver but I just contacted several of my sources in the Fed and we're expecting a nose dive in the next day or so. We're going to see a crash that makes the Great Depression look like day at the beach."

"God help us." Harris frustratingly didn't know what he could do to prevent the oncoming crises. It was another disaster in a long line of catastrophes. If paper currency failed then people would be clamoring for specie, and the Empire beat them to the punch. "Get as many of your men together as you need to stall this. Hide the theft as long as you can and we will keep raising production levels. Whatever gold is left is going to go through the roof on prices. We won't be able to hide that. We're going to have to try to muddle through this disaster as best we can."

"Is there anything we can do, Mr. President?"

"I've got a smashed infrastructure from Juneau to Vera Cruz. I've got massive crop failure across the Union and hundreds of millions of refugees roaming the highways and byways of this land. But we are rebuilding. We were already seeing unemployment dropping like a rock during the build-up to war. Nowadays anyone who wants a job can have one. I've got eighty year olds returning to work in shattered shipyards and factories where they're put to work next to thirteen year olds. Social Security, the EPA, OSHA, and just about every child-labor law and work regulation has gone out the window. Some people are howling about it but it's saving us some cash. We can do away with our involvement in the IMF. We can't loan out any money we don't have. Speaking of which, you say all three mints were hit."

"Yes, Sir. A lot of the minting equipment was destroyed but we should be able to combine what we have into at least one working mint."

"Put people to work doing it, but I don't want another nickel minted until I say so. The less money we've got laying around the rarer it will be. That should drive up value some. That'll help with some of the worst effects of this catastrophe, but you boys and the Fed are going to have your hands full with yo-yo inflation."

"We're already seeing a disaster happening in Europe." Cordell said.

"What is the latest?" Harris asked.

"The Euro is sinking like a stone. The Empire hit the big European vaults at the same time as ours. Supposedly casualties were about the same but the whole thing was much more public. Germany has suspended transferring its army east to China. Spain, Italy, and Greece are experiencing total meltdown of their economies. France has called out its reserve army to back up its overwhelmed riot police, especially since they lost control of their provincial Capitol at Lyons to rioters yesterday."

"I heard about that. The French Army is going to have to take that place back block by block. Could be worse if Paris still existed. A lot of what's happening there is ethnically charged. Whites versus Arabs mainly. I wish people would realize that we have a common enemy instead of letting old grudges get in the way of fighting a war. Did anyone get away unscathed?"

"The British weren't hit at all. It's believed that they still have some reserve which will strengthen the Pound considerably. Over in Asia the Japanese were also hit, but it looks like they were more successful in squirreling away their gold. The Imperials came away with only a tonne or two of Japan's reserve. They've also been taking in thousands of refugees that have been fleeing ahead of the Empire's drive across the Pacific. The Japanese government has put those refugees to work rebuilding Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto as well as the Japanese infrastructure. The Yen has been making steady gains since the war started, but it's skyrocketed yesterday after the Empire's bullion heist. They could be our strongest ally when this is all said and done." Cordell reported.

"And China?"

Cordell's face looked grim through his facemask. "China's had a large amount of her economy tied up in providing us goods for decades. They've also been the world's largest food importer for the better part of a century. They have tens of millions out of work because the Pacific has been cut off as a transportation hub. Now nothing's coming in and nothing's going out."

"So they're looking down the barrel at starvation. If I know China's solution they're putting a rifle in the hands of all those unemployed and sending them directly at that Imperial landing site in Shanghai. They're trying to drown the aliens in a sea of blood." Harris sighed.

"We wouldn't do that here, would we, Mr. President?" Cordell asked nervously.

"No, we've never had the nerve to throw away the sheer manpower that China is willing to throw away at the Imperial's shield, even with Mexico and Canada as members of the Union. We've always valued brains over bronze. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And believe me when I tell you this. America will find a way to win. . .somehow. . .some way."

**Prefab Imperial Garrison Complex-West 7, Suzhou, People's Republic of China, Earth**

Corporal Dusel was just getting used to sleeping in a bunk again when the morning reveille of a screamer gong sounded throughout the barracks. The young AT-AT driver stretched out his tired body underneath the gray, itchy sheets that were his only cover. He swung his legs out of bed and slipped his feet into his regulation shower sandals.

In a bunk across the way lay his walker's gunner Malm. The Alderaanian corporal stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling as if trying to shake himself free of the effects of the previous evening. Dusel wished him success, as he was also still feeling hungover thanks to their discovery of a local brew.

One of their AT-AT crew chiefs had come across several bottles of a Chinese beverage named _kao liang,_ which was made from millet and was strong as a rancor. (Somebeing had told him that the Chinese abos also threw in pigeon droppings to give it extra body) Those several bottles combined with a late night sabacc game had left his mind in a fog.

As Dusel stood up his head pounded for several seconds. He was dressed in only his regulation blue imperial boxer shorts. The Chandrilan reached into his nearby locker and grabbed his shower gear, wrapping the long towel into a cord and whipping Malm in his bunk with it. "Time to rise, sleepyhead."

Malm let out a pitiful whine and slowly started to sit up before tossing Dusel an evil glare. Dusel just chuckled and threw his towel over his shoulder before heading to the showers.

He entered the brightly lit barrack's refresher and shower room. Dozens of sergeants and corporals jammed the sinks as they all tried to shave at once. The refreshers were equally packed, but Dusel was able to find a sonic shower stall that was empty. The barracks on Mars had hydro-showers installed, but Dusel feared it would be a long time before he felt the luxury of a hot shower again. He removed his shorts and stood in the stall for a minute, letting the vibrations remove the dirt and grime that had built up on his body. The vibrations even cleaned his teeth and ears, which was something the hydro-showers usually missed.

He got out and changed into some clean underwear before lining up to one of the sinks and shaving his face with the cheap LazRaz his father had given him before he had left Chandrila for boot camp. He returned to his bunk to discover that Malm was missing. Dusel assumed his partner must have headed for the refreshers and he had missed him in the crowd.

The AT-AT driver started getting dressed in his uniform, sighing as he realized he only had a few hours of leave left before the walkers of Monkey Force Squadron headed back up to the front. Orders were that they would move up and relieve Rooster Force Squadron under the cover of darkness, so that the Chinese army sitting outside the city wouldn't observe there movements.

Dusel didn't quite understand the point of all the secrecy. Since Target West had fallen two weeks ago the abos had tried to break into Shanghai twice, only to be bloodily repulsed each time without a single earthling making it close to the planetary shield that protected the garrisons of Target West.

With resignation he accepted the fact he would be living inside his walker, Monkey 9, for two weeks before they would be relieved again. Two weeks of sleeping in a hammock in the hull, two weeks of eating the MPETs they brought along with them. Worst of all, it was two weeks of staring across the same eight kilometers of no-beings-land at the same Chinese troopers as they continued to dig in around Target West.

"Want to go grab some chow?" an electrically-amplified voice asked from behind him.

Dusel spun around and was greeted by a fully-uniformed Malm. His partner showed no signs of being hung over from the night before. Dusel wondered what Malm's bucket was hiding. He slipped on his own helmet and dimmed the polarized lenses with a flick of his eyelids. The dimming helped fight off the light-sensitive migraine he felt was slowly building inside his skull.

"Yeah, that sounds astral."

Malm slapped him on the back before leading him out of the barracks clogged with NCO stormtroopers of every type in every stage of dress. The pair of AT-AT pilots slept on the fifth floor of the eight story prefabricated base. The halls of the durasteel fortress were only manned by Imperial troopers and cleaning droids. A large guard force and several layers of security insured the abos in the city kept well clear of the garrison. Along the walls several holographic messages changed between ads for Martian products to warnings about Earth diseases.

Dusel had looked some of them over with a sense of revulsion. That a being could pick up a fatal disease from sexual intercourse was a concept the Empire was still trying to get its mind around. His partner, Malm, thought of it as a challenge.

"We ought to get our Deeces calibrated before we have to head to the front tonight." Malm suggested.

Dusel couldn't think of a reason not to. It wasn't as if there was a lot of entertainment in the sprawling Imperial garrison complex. He nodded that maybe they should try it, "If we've got time."

"Oh, we'll make some time. Major Wells isn't expecting us at the AT-AT bay until 1500." Malm laughed at the possibilities that were surely coursing through his mind.

They walked down a series of stairwells to Level 3 and into a large cafeteria. Rows and rows of tables were filled with everything from platoons of stormtroopers and TIE pilots to Naval and Army officers and civilian freighter crews. A din of conversation echoed throughout the huge hall.

Dusel and Malm got in line behind several AT-ST drivers and slowly made their way up to the front of the line. The galley workers, a mix between Mon Cals and a few Gossams, dished out heaps of scrambled gorg eggs, Klatooine paddy frog sausages, local white rice, and jerba cheese covered pedunkee mufkins to the troopers and spacers waiting in line. Dusel ordered a Gart egg omelette, several bantha breakfast biscuits, and a large mug of blue milk to help with the hangover.

The two of them found a seat at a table filled with the AT-AT crewmen of Monkey Force Squadron. Manners were long forgotten as troopers reached across each other and shoveled mounds of food into their gullets like starving wookiees.

Malm tested out his earlier suggestion about finding some female companionship with some of their comrades. A few of them were game, but most were too sullen or anxious about their upcoming redeployment to commit one way or another. Knowing he had to watch out for his partner, Dusel found himself tagging along as Malm led three other AT-AT crewmen out one of the interior guard barricades an hour after breakfast.

Their garrison base was one of six fortresses laid out in a hexagon formation. Between each of the garrisons a towering berm of dirt rose out of the ruins of Suzhou, topped with a heavily patrolled, five meter tall durasteel wall. An electrified death fence was erected at another hundred meters beyond the wall and watched closely by stormtroopers stationed in a ring of guard towers around the complex. There were supposedly two other garrison complexes inside Target West but Dusel had never been to either one, so he imagined they were laid out much the same as the one he was stationed at.

Inside the hexagon the wreckage of the smashed city had been cleared away or incorporated into the berm. Landing facilities capable of handling several large freighters had been erected in the center of the compound. As well as training grounds, walker repair yards, and open-air holding facilities for earthling prisoners. On the far side of the complex, several hundred abo construction workers were erecting a medium-sized medical facility and housing for the garrison's officers. The abo workers were all chained together and under guard by several squads of Imperial marines.

In the distance a constant, drumming noise like a far-away thunder storm came from the west. Dusel looked to the sky above. Except for a few formations of patrolling TIE fighters the horizon was a flat, brownish-orange hue. It was when his gaze turned to the west that he located the source of the noise. Large, green, concentric circles emanated from the planetary particle shield that covered Target West as abo heavy slugthrower artillery continued to pour fire down upon the shields. Every twenty minutes or so an Imperial artillery battery would blast a volley to let the earthlings know they hadn't been forgotten.

Malm, assured that no enemy slugs could penetrate the distant shield and fall upon them, led the way out into the open space, past rows of empty slave pens. Dusel had heard of Operation _Piper_ taking place in the nearby ocean, but the troopers of Target West hadn't started the monumental task of rounding up the population of Shanghai yet. By ready look of the slave pens, that could change any day.

Towards the center of the complex several pens were full of purely abo females. For the most part the females ignored them as they passed by. One or two pointed out that their uniforms seemed different than the stormtroopers they were used to. Another tried to spit at them through the holes in her death fence prison. Malm was quicker than her and sidestepped the salivary projectile.

Past the slave pens a newly constructed building sat tucked away behind a corner of one of the garrison fortresses and in the shadows of the massive landing pads of the complex. Several field police stood guard at the entrance of the building and a line of waiting troopers stretched out along its wall.

"NUMBER 1 GOOD TIME" the pleasure house marquee said in aurabesh. It had a smaller sign in Chinese. Dusel would have bet that that was dirtier. Malm led their small group to the back of the line.

Dusel was nervous. He'd been in a couple pleasure houses in his short time in the army. The few on Mars were pretty good, and he had been to one ran by a Hutt on Carida during boot camp that had been so full of scum he had felt sure the Twilek girl he had paid for was going to stab him with a vibroblade at one point.

The problem with the Terrans was the new disease rules that FleetOps had passed down. Flunk a shortarm inspection and the Corps landed on you like a ton of duracrete.

At the front of the line the field police gave them menacing stares before passing them through. Several medical droids inside the building's foyer scanned them with their sensors. One of them droned over and over, "All female consorts have been medically screened every four standard hours by the Martian Medical Corps and been verified _Clean_ by qualified medical personnel."

"That's good to hear. Don't want a leaky blaster when I go back to Culter City." Malm joked.

"I don't think they'll let you anywhere near Mars again if you come up 'venereal'." Dusel warned, testing out the odd sounding Earth word he had learned.

"Dragon-walker pilots!" the middle-aged, near human madam exclaimed. "Make you happy!" _Make me rich_, she probably meant. Her cut of the wages of sin looked pretty nice. She wore brocaded silk and aurodium gleamed around her neck and on her fingers and ears; jewels sparkled in her hair.

"Show us the piffers!" said Malm, who didn't believe in dicking around when it came to dicking around.

"Yes, yes, yes!" The madam was all smiles. Dusel heard the ring of a credit register in her agreement. Well, what the hell did you expect when you went to a pleasure house, he asked himself? This abo had Twileki sisters back on Mars or Imperial Center. He'd dealt with his share of them. All the same, it did take a little of the edge off.

He got the edge back when he picked his female. She reminded him of a lithe nexu, except her eyes weren't blue. He paid the madame in Imperial credits and took the girl upstairs.

She hardly knew any Galactic Standard Basic, though. Oh, well, Dusel thought. He could show her what he wanted. He could-and he did.

The way she gasped and squeezed him inside at the end made him think he brought her off, too. Of course he had been off of Chandrila long enough to learn that pleasure girls were part actresses. If they made the trooper think he was a prized stud, he'd shell out more. And Dusel did give her an extra credit chip, saying, "Don't tell the old nerf-herder downstairs."

She hugged him and kissed him and made the fat credit chip disappear even though she was naked. Dusel didn't see exactly where it went. Into her lacquered hair? Or...? He shrugged. It wasn't his worry.

"GI love me?" the girl asked.

"Um, I think you're pretty wizard." Dusel admitted as he started to put his body glove back on, moving faster now that the girl wanted to have a conversation.

"Take me Mars, GI?"

"No, I think you're better off here. I'm going to be here for awhile too. Maybe I'll come back and see you next time I get leave." Dusel admitted, tugging on his boots.

"I be Mars soon. No be here when you come back." Dusel furrowed his eyebrows and shot her a questioning look. "Every few hour robot check for pregnant." the girl tried to explain in her broken basic. She held her hands over her belly in order to make him understand. "Other girls pregnant. They go in spaceship to Mars. No one see them again."

Dusel stopped dressing for a second and thought about what the girl had said. He reached into his uniform and flipped the girl another credit. He wasn't sure if what she was trying to explain was the truth, but he certainly didn't want to stick his nose into it too far. He grabbed his helmet and almost tripped over himself in his rush to leave the room.

The three other AT-AT crewmen were sitting in the waiting room when he got down there. Malm took longer coming back. "Twice!" he said proudly.

"You went off in your armor the first time?" Dusel gibed.

"Not likely!" Malm said "You should have heard that piffer squeal!"

"Thank you! Thank you! Drink?" the madam said.

"Um, no thank you, um...Mam?" Malm replied, "We're shipping out in a few hours. Can't be drunk and drive an AT-AT."

"No? Dragon-walkers very dangerous. Step on somebody who is too slow. Where are you boys going to go?" Dusel was thinking about the name she had called his walker. He had heard a couple of other abos use the term since they had secured Shanghai. He didn't wonder why a pleasure house's madam would care where they were heading, he figured she was just trying to make conversation to get them to stay longer and spend more credits.

Malm answered for him, "Heading up to Nanchang, but don't you worry we'll be back to see your girls in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" She moaned as if the loss of their business was going to bankrupt her. "Ok, have a good time up in Nanchang. But don't go beyond your shield or Chinese soldier-boys will get you." She nodded and left to greet the next group of troopers entering her establishment.

Dusel put the conversation out of his head almost the moment they returned to the compound. The nearby scream of a landing medium freighter's engine almost set his migraine off again. Malm led them back to the barracks to pack their gear, but Dusel stopped off at the pharmacy on Level 4 for several doses of pain killers and caffeine pills.

He returned to his bunk and packed away his gear in his ruck sack in less than ten minutes. Already a utility droid was stripping his bunk of its sheets and cleaning the area around his bunk for the next trooper on leave. Dusel nodded to the droid as he moved around it and headed out of the barracks.

He made his way down to Level 1 and the temporary AT-AT retrieval bay of Monkey Force Squadron. Twelve towering walkers stood in each of the service bays of the hanger-like room. Dozens of mechanics and engineers worked around the bay servicing equipment and preparing the walkers for combat operations. Tibanna hoists and fuel lines ran into the back ports of the AT-ATs as CLL-M2 binary loadlifters loaded the walkers with equipment that was to be carried to troopers at the front.

At the end of the line stood the new Monkey 12, freshly transferred from the training grounds on Mars. The newest walker in their squadron had been the replacement for Monkey 1, the only walker lost in the assault of Target West. The last walker looked out of place to Dusel before it suddenly hit him what was so different. Monkey 12 lacked the scars the other walkers sported. They had been slug magnets for the slugthrowers of the abos, and each of them had scratches and gashes on their thick, durasteel hulls to testify to the beatings they had taken. The crew of Monkey 12 would have to prove themselves until they were sporting battle scars of their own.

Dusel walked over to his girl, Monkey 9. If he didn't know any better he could have sworn the twenty-two and a half meter beast actually looked eager to see him. He got on a gantry lift and shot up the side of her bay. He strolled across the overhead gantry and entered the walker through the port side boarding hatch.

Malm was already onboard and regaling the two Deck Chiefs with stories of his successful conquest at the pleasure house that morning. Dusel laughed and set them straight. The four of them spent the next three hours getting their gear set up on the upper ready deck that would serve as their home for the next two weeks. Malm and one of the Deck Chiefs primed the walker's weapons and bore-sighted all of their heavy blasters, while Dusel and the remaining crewman performed routine maintenance checks of the AT-AT's fusion drive system and fuel cells.

He paid extra attention to the AT-AT's chemical scrubbers, as they were hearing more and more reports of the Chinese using scattered chemical weapons up at the front. It didn't seem to bug the enemy troopers that the civilian abos in the city usually paid the price for the small-scale gas attacks.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when one of the Deck Chiefs suddenly shouted "Attention on deck!" Dusel jumped up and scrambled to the lower ready deck to stand at attention before the AT-AT's commander, Major Wells.

The Major always insisted on inspecting his crew before every mission, and Dusel could tell the no-nonsense Eriadu officer wasn't about to change his routine. His commander stepped in front of Dusel and looked him up and down. Suddenly the Major reached forward and wiped a glob of engine grease from his armor's chest plate. "How are the engines, Driver?"

"Excellent, Sir. I checked them myself. We have enough fuel on board for four months of maneuvers." Dusel responded in crisp staccato.

Wells turned to Malm. "Gunner, how are our blasters?"

"Primed and ready. We have half a tonne of tibanna aboard, enough for twenty thousand heavy rounds, Sir." The Alderaanian responded.

"Very well. Everyone to their duty stations. We will be moving up to the front line to relieve our comrades in Rooster Force Squadron. Dismissed."

Dusel and Malm scrambled to the cockpit 'head' of the walker and jumped into their assigned slots. Dusel started going through the start-up procedures of the engines while the gunner made contact with the rest of the squadron over the HyperWave radio.

Major Wells entered the cockpit a moment later and took up his seat behind the two of them. The officer reached over and activated the AT-AT's holoprojecter, bringing up a real-time image of the front lines near Nanchang. Dusel glanced over between start-up procedures and noticed the massive build-up of entrenchments since they had last been there.

"Driver, we will be utilizing the Huning Expressway as our main line of advance." Wells said.

"Yes, Sir." It made sense. Not only was it the quickest route, but it was still only one of a handful of roadways the Imperial Corps of Engineers had cleared of wreckage in the flattened city. Only Imperial traffic was allowed on the thoroughfare, with even Chinese foot traffic being restricted.

A small blue figure of the High Colonel in command of the Monkey Force Squadron came to life on the cockpit's holoimager. The hologram figure lurched a bit and the officer steadied himself for balance. Dusel looked out of the viewport and across the hanger, where Monkey 1 had just started to leave its maintenance bay.

High Colonel Jade regained his balance and turned to face Major Wells. "Monkey 1 has the lead. We will wait here until the sun goes down and then move up into position. No need to let the enemy know our movements."

"Yes, Sir." Wells automatically responded, saluting the High Colonel even as his image disappeared.

Dusel thought waiting for nightfall was unnecessary as he had heard rumors that the Chinese troopers had been using night-viewers when they had defended the ill-fated city. No doubt they still had them, so he'd be very surprised if they weren't watching tonight. But he had his orders and an Imperial AT-AT driver never questioned a set of orders.

They moved into the hexagon space between the garrison fortresses and waited for darkness. Several layers of secured duracrete bunkers sporting E-webs and heavy turbolasers guarded the approach to the Imperial base. Outside of the bunkers stood a tall, electrified death fence patrolled by several squads of stormtroopers. Several of the troopers led fearsome kath hounds and akk dogs on leashes to further protect the base from unwanted intruders.

Outside the gate sat the Chinese. Thousands of them loitered around the base begging for whatever scraps they could find. After the battle was over and Target West was declared secure, several million refugees had emerged from the ruins of their once great metropolis. Unfortunately for them no food was coming into Shanghai, and the Empire certainly wasn't feeding the populace. Thousands of them had tried to cross no-beings-land back to their own people. Some of them had actually succeeded. More of them had become target practice for the gunners and snipers of the Martian Army. Dusel had even seen several instances of Chinese troopers on the far side firing on anyone in no-beings-land.

This world was a cruel place, Dusel had decided. The abos would just have to live as the best they could, Serves them right for not kneeling to the Empire right away, he thought. Never fully believing the Imperial propaganda that shaped his thoughts.

The crew ate the first of many MPETs for dinner as they waited for Monkey 1 to lead them out into the city once the Lieutenant Colonel thought it was dark enough. Dusel switched on the low-light illumination in the cabin, plunging the AT-ATs interior into darkness except for a small number of red and green lights. The HUD in his helmet fed him night-viewer images of the compound.

Ahead of them several platoons of stormtroopers opened the gates and rushed out to push the large crowd out of the way. Dusel watched as the stormies liberally used their stun batons and blaster rifle butts to encourage any abo too slow to move. The troopers' kath hounds barked and tried to bite slower earthlings as well.

Once the street in front of the complex had been cleared enough for the Colonel, Monkey 1 lurched ahead as it led the column of walkers to the front. Dusel swore to himself when he realized they were falling in formation behind the noobs in Monkey 12.

The AT-AT started its characteristic swaying as it left the compound at a leisurely pace. On the cleared street around them were Chinese on foot, Chinese on bicycles, Chinese riding in rick-shaws pulled by skinnier Chinese, Chinese selling things, Chinese spitting and blowing their noses, Chinese scrambling out of the way, Chinese leaping from the street onto the rickety sidewalks, Chinese bowing low...

"There sure are a lot of them aren't there?" Malm asked as he kept the walker's medium repeating blasters trained on large groups of the abos.

"There sure are. We killed millions of them taking the city, and yet millions more came right back out the minute we were done blasting." Dusel said.

"Starvation and disease will get them soon enough. Or they'll start shipping them to Mars like they're doing out in the Pacific." Malm suggested. Dusel thought the suggestion was probably true, so didn't argue. Major Wells remained silent behind them, as always.

Around them the ruins of the city were cast in darkness, as the Imperials had never made an effort to return power to the stranded earthlings of the city. Here and there, lanterns and small fires lit abos still on the streets after dark.

The column of walkers strolled onto the Huning expressway, a major, eight lane highway that had been cleared of destroyed landspeeders on one side. The other side was still choked full of the blackened remains of thousands of burnt out, wheeled landspeeders. Dusel knew if he concentrated he would still be able to smell the cooked remains of their occupants. Dusel chose not to concentrate.

Coming from the opposite direction was a platoon of AT-STs returning from the front. The smaller 'chicken-walkers' moved towards the center of the roadway to make way for their larger cousins. Dusel turned the walker slightly to give both forces enough space to pass.

Monkey 12 was passing the covered cargobay of a landspeeder truck when its driver straddled the vehicle to give extra room for the passing scout-walkers.

Malm started to comment on the slow movement. "They ought to make room for..." the gunner never finished saying what they ought to do because at that moment the landspeeder blew up.

They lost their view of Monkey 12 as the force of the explosion bent their own cockpit skyward. The blast was so powerful that it threw the three cockpit crew back into the neck of the walker. Lights flickered on and off throughout the walker.

The two Deck Chiefs quickly helped the three of them to their feet again. Dusel scrambled up the neck and returned the cockpit to its normal position. The other four crewmen rushed into the cockpit to get a better view of the disaster ahead of them.

Monkey 12 still stood but its two rear legs were now deep inside a blast crater. The newer walker was completely covered in black ash and fierce scars that ran along its undercarriage. Dusel held his breath afraid that the newer walker might topple over, but it stubbornly remained on its footpads.

The primitive landspeeder was nowhere to be seen. Dusel assumed most of it had been atomized in the blast. The only evidence that it had ever existed was a bent axle attached to a molten rubber tire that burned in a nearby ditch.

The remains of an AT-ST burned fiercely along the other side of the road, while a second bipedal walker stumbled back and forth across the road like a drunken wookiee. Several other scout-walkers spread out along the roadway to provide security around the blast site.

"Their gyro stabilizer's out." Major Wells stated the obvious as he pointed to the stumbling scout walker.

That his commander was right didn't help the AT-ST, as just then the smaller walker fell over hard. Smoke started pouring from its viewports and Dusel held his breath and kept an eye on the walker's escape hatch. The hatch popped open suddenly and a gloved hand emerged from the smoke but was too late, for before the crew could climb free the small walker exploded in a giant fireball. Dusel's lenses polarized to protect his eyes against the bright flash of the explosion. He couldn't pull his gaze from the burning corpse still stuck in the vehicle's hatch.

The holoimager came to life again with the figure of the High Colonel in Monkey 1 at the head of the column. "Monkey 9, status report." High Colonel Jade ordered.

Major Wells studied the various operational instruments and controls. "Monkey 9 is still 100 percent operational and ready to continue the mission, Sir."

"Good. You troopers probably had the best view. What happened?" the holoimage inquired.

"Landspeeder bomb. Really big one. It looks like they packed a wheeled hovertruck full of some type of explosive and waited for someone to come by."

"Astral," The High Colonel growled, though Dusel knew the situation was anything but, "This was supposed to be a secured route. Now we'll have to get squads of bomb troopers to check every route before we move anywhere. Damn waste of resources."

"Sir, at least two AT-ST crews were lost in the blast. What is the condition of Monkey 12?"

"They're shaken up, there's some damage to their rear legs but they're functioning. I just talked to their commander and they're ready to move out as soon as you are. Because of their damage we're cutting our speed to five kilometers per hour to the front."

"Yes, Sir. We will move on you."

"Excellent, Monkey 1 out." The High Colonel's image disappeared.

Major Wells retook his seat while the two Deck Chiefs returned to their stations in the hull. "Driver move out when the column does."

"Yes, Sir." Dusel waited for Monkey 12 to climb out of the crater ahead of them. He wondered how much hull damage his own walker had taken from the blast and figured he'd have to requisition some engineers to look her over when they made it to the front.

The column moved forward. Monkey 12 slowly climbed out of the bomb damage and Dusel maneuvered Monkey 9 around the giant hole in the roadway. They left the AT-STs at the blast site to recover from their losses on their own. Already several fast response LAATs were dropping on the roadway behind them with stormtroopers to secure the blast site.

Dusel switched the commo in his bucket to a secure comm channel between Malm and himself, "Hey Malm."

"Yeah?"

"Who would have thought the abos would make a landspeeder bomb to go after us?" Dusel asked. _Why haven't they given up yet?_

"Not anyone who planned this invasion, that's for sure."

The sound of thunder from up ahead grew louder as the walkers moved up to the front.


	39. Kuat of Kuat 3

NAU Air Force Emergency Comminication Relay Station Charlie-24, Eagle Nest, New Mexico, NAU, Earth

The shed was pockmarked with hundreds of bullet holes that let in stray beams of sunlight and a chilling wind off of nearby Wheeler Peak.

The NAU Air Force Airman squirmed in the seat he was tied to, frantically fighting against the bonds that held his arms behind him. Several bodies in Air Force pattern camouflage lay around the room. Until ten minutes ago they had been dutifully encoding and relaying orders from NORTHCOM and the National Command Authority to military units all across the Union. A new set of orders had just been delivered by an Army courier who had arrived in the small Cessna aircraft outside. Those orders where being broadcast on a high tech encryption computer connected to the large shortwave radio antenna outside. The President of the North American Union's recorded voice filled the shed as his directives went out to units across the midwest and east coast.

From somewhere outside the Airman heard the last fading sounds of an automatic rifle from somewhere on the outskirts of the small emergency airfield. Then nothing. He cocked his head to hear any sound that might hint that help was on its way. Instead he only heard the approaching sounds of off-world footsteps.

The door opened, letting in an abundance of sunlight around the dark silhouette of the alien standing in the doorway.

The creature, or ET as everyone was calling them, was of medium build with pale brown skin. It was mostly humanoid but for the vestigial horns crowning its head. His clothing looked as if it were made of some kind of leather. Two large belts that held a dozen different knives along each length crisscrossed its torso. The horned alien carried a huge rifle that was nearly twice as tall as ET grinned and walked inside the shed, fastening the door closed behind him.

"Alone at last." The alien said. The ET's accent made it sound as if it had grown up in New Jersey.

The alien walked up to the Airman and leaned into his face. "Now, where were we?"

"I told you I don't know anything about where the President might be. I've only been in the Air Force for eight months. Nobody tells me anything. You can torture me if you want. . ."

"Thanks. Don't mind if I do." The alien grinned. The ET stood up and looked around the room as if he was deciding what to use.

"I heard your boss outside say you were supposed to be trying to find a live prisoner."

The alien viciously slapped the Airman across the face. "First off, I don't have a boss. Are you clear about that?" When the Airman didn't immediately answer the ET asked, "I asked a question. Are you clear about that?"

"Yes." the Airman stammered choking on fear. The ropes around his waist and chest felt even more constricting as he started to hyperventilate.

"Now I'm not going to kriffing poodoo you. I don't really care about what you know or don't know. I'm gonna torture you for awhile regardless. Not to get information, but because torturing one of you abos amuses me. There's nothing you can say. There's nothing you can do. Except pray to whatever passes for a god on your planet for death."

The ET put a piece of duct tape over the Airman's mouth. Then he walked away and started looking over the shelves of equipment and clutter in the shed. He stopped at a small, portable cd player and fiddled with the controls. Suddenly the device came to life. ". . . you're listening to K-BILLY's super sounds of the seventies weekend. . ."

Stealers Wheels hit 'Stuck in the Middle with You' played over the speaker filling the shed and overwhelming the President's recorded voice issuing from the encryption computer.

The horned ET started to slowly walk towards the Airman, mockingly dancing to the music. He pulled out a large alien knife from the bandolier across its chest and then grabbed a chair, placed it in front of the Airman, and sat in it. The alien just stared into the Airman's face while he held the knife and appeared to be trying to figure out the words to the song.

Then, like a cobra, he lashed out. The alien's blade slashed once across the Airman's face. The alien continued to stare as he tried to mouth the words to the music.

Then he reached out again and quickly, cleanly cut off the Airman's ear. The Airman screamed through the tape.

The alien remained cool as he held up the ear for the Airman to see. The side of the Airman's head was in agony and he could feel the warmth of his own blood trickling down his neck and into his collar. His heart threatened to burst from his chest and his breath came in short, nasally gasps as he lost the battle of self-control. His cries and whimpers filled the room.

"Hey, what's going on." The alien said into the ear. "You hear that?" It laughed.

The ET suddenly rose and kicked the chair he was sitting on out of the way. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." He turned and walked back to the entrance of the shed and went outside, leaving the door wide open.

The tortured Airman watched through the open door as the alien walked to a shot up Cessna outside. The body of the army courier hung limply from the plane's nearest door. Beyond the plane a building on the opposite side of the airstrip was aflame with several more bodies strewn across the tarmac.

The alien leaned over the courier's corpse and started to ransack the plane before pulling out a large can of gasoline. He smelled it to figure out what it was.

The ET turned and walked back inside the shed, carrying the gasoline can.

The alien continued its dance as it approached and then began to splash the gasoline all over the Airman. Muffled cries came from the Airman, who had resorted to desperately begging for his life when he realized what the ET was going to do to him. His voice was muffled, the words unintelligible. And with the gasoline now burning in his nostrils even drawing breath had become a chore. But it didn't matter that he couldn't talk because his words would have fallen on deaf ears.

The alien ignored him while he continued to try to sing the song on the radio. He threw the can to the ground and lit a match, looked directly into the Airman's eyes and sang, "Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you."

The alien slowly moved the match closer to the Airman. . .

. . . And then a laser bullet suddenly burned straight through the alien's chest.

Someone in the doorway continued to fire away at the alien, who spun around several times from the impacts of the laser bullets tearing into its body.

The horned alien fell down dead.

In the doorway, holding a still smoking phaser, was what appeared to be an armored alien female. She wore a different type of armor than what the Airman had seen in intel photos of the ET soldiers but the helmet was similar. Her blue and green armor made no attempt to hide the fact that it had been fashioned for a female; cut at the midriff to expose well-toned muscles, it also sported a waist-length, blue cape, and a long braid of strawberry-blonde hair emerged from the helmet and stopped at a large spiked wieght below her waist. She continued to point her laser gun at him.

She walked menacingly towards him. His eyes stung from the gasoline fumes while blood continued to run down his head and neck. The helpless Airman wasn't sure if he had been saved or not.

She stood in front of him and slowly pushed the searing hot end of her phaser gun into the spot on his head where his ear used to be. The pain was unbearable and threatened to spin his mind into madness. She held it there for what seemed like an eternity.

Then she reached forward and ripped the tape off of his mouth. "The courier outside. Where did he come from?" The armored female asked in what the Airman guessed was a heavy Australian accent.

The Airman was in tears as he stared into the visored helmet before him. He would tell her anything just to get the pain caused by her phaser to stop. The truth was the first thing that came to mind. "Missouri, he came from Canton, Missouri."

She fired the laser gun one last time.

**Central DockBay 5, KDY Type II Orbital Repair Yard 1138, Aerocentric Orbit Mars**

Moff Kuantus Kuat was in his element. The elderly Kuati stared at the void out of the curving transpiristeel viewport that encompassed the top stories of the driveyard's central control station.

Below the driveyards the planet Mars rotated in silent symbiosis to the geosynchronous orbit of the red planet's orbiting space docks. Kuat could make out the sprawl of Culter City as it overflowed from the Ares Vallis, as well as the smaller military zone in the Margaritifer Terra to the south-east. Green plains filled with thousands of different varieties of plants from the Home Galaxy spread out across the vast Chryse Planitia, as well as several fields of the struggling Earth crops that were still fighting to thrive in the Martian soil.

The night side of Mars was rapidly approaching, and soon the capital would shimmer like a jewel below him. Across the driveyard, ship yard workers boarded hundreds of shuttles for the return trip to Culter City, while identical shuttles brought in workers for the next shift. The whole process endlessly repeated itself three times a day.

On the far side of the Chryse Planitia small plumes of smoke still rose into the atmosphere, marking the pyres of cremated, near-human corpses in the large earthling slave camp. Kuat had seen top-level reports that listed nearly half a million potential labor units had been lost in the uprising that had taken the better part of the last week to put down.

Ever since the Old Empire had reinstated slavery in the borders of the Old Republic, Kuat had started to think of the beings working and dying to make him wealthy as labor units. This self-enforced denial was the only way he could find some semblance of sleep at night.

He comforted himself with the thought that at least there weren't any enslaved labor units working in his driveyards. Instead, beings who had been Imperial slaves only two years before now worked the yards as paid employees. Coming from a vast number of species, the nearly three hundred thousand workers that manned the driveyards every day were now some of the highest-paid citizens of Culter City.

He turned and looked upon the driveyard's executive office. The room he found himself in tonight closely matched its twin at the KDY corporate headquarters in Culter City. White carpeting and walls created an antiseptic feel to the room. Along the walls several holoimagers projected blueprints of several different design projects his researchers and designers were working on. A pair of white, nerf-leathered sofas sat astride the entrance to the room at the far side of the room. His aides, Gage and Niobe, occupied them, their eyes on the datapads in front of them as they sifted through thousands of reports destined for his eyes.

The floor beneath his executive office was filled with dozens of FlightOp controllers who managed the traffic of the facility. As such they could direct the tower to rotate in any direction to give him a better view of whichever docking bay he wanted. Kuat's office had an almost 360 degree view of the driveyards, only obscured by the turbolift at the office entrance and a few non-transparent walls.

The driveyard was laid out over a kilometer and a half in a grid of nine bays in a simple three by three square formation. At the moment the controllers beneath him had the tower facing DockBay 6. That particular bay was the central bay on the port side of the facility.

DockBay 6 was easily the most heavily trafficked of all the bays. It was filled with two dozen civilian light frigates of a multitude of designs and ages, and was also the central off-loading site for worker shuttles from the planet below. Civilian spacers had lined up weeks ago. Waiting for the first deliveries of hypermatter. They would have to wait a little while longer before any hypermatter found its way into their hands, and they'd be waiting a lot longer

The expensive fuel had only just started to be produced on the far side of Mars. The hypermatter facility was still under construction near a location named Olympus Mons that was a mirror of the Shawken Sphire back in the Home Galaxy. Slaves still labored and died to finish the top-priority site; their work continuing while the first samples of the exotic, tachyon-based fuel came out of the production refinery.

Kuat chuckled at the eagerness of the spacers in the adjacent DockBay. Even if the military didn't horde the first years' production of the hypermatter, there still wasn't any place to go. His gaze moved to another viewport and fell upon the now empty DockBay 1, which had formally held the _Lancer_-class frigate _StarGate._

Launched a few weeks prior, the exploratory vessel was currently laying a trail of hyperspace beacons through the Kuiper Belt of asteroids and small planetoids that surrounded the Sol System. With only its subspace engines to propel it, the frigate would still take several months to reach and traverse the Oort cloud beyond that on its way to Epsilon Eridani b.

Thinking of its final destination made the elderly Moff's gaze fall upon DockBays 2 and 3, where two large colonization vessels were under construction. Bulbous vessels that were a mixture of some of the finest designs from a mixture of Hoersch-Kessel Driveyards, Rendili StarDrive, and Mon Cal shipwright's designs. The starships were designed to ferry two thousand cloning chambers apiece as well as thousands of tons of terraforming and colonization equipment. Their ultra-dense hypermatter bunkers would carry the hypermatter needed for the _StarGate_ to continue its scouting mission of several nearby systems over the next decade.

The first one completed would follow the _StarGate_ to Epsilon Eridani, while the second one would accompany the _Lancer_ frigate to a system named 61 Virginis for the second Martian colony outside of the local system.

The colony ships' sister had already proven that it was possible. Setting off at the same time as the _StarGate_, the _Sweet Skako_ had already delivered two thousand Skakoan and Morseerian beings and clones to the nearby Earth 2. Evidently the vessel was still in orbit around the volatile world, off-loading terraforming equipment designed to survive the extremely harsh conditions found on that world. Kuat knew he would never set foot on the first Martian colony as his colleague Moff Culter had informed him that it would be several decades of intense terraforming before the planet could even receive visitors that weren't either of those two hardy species.

He laughed to himself when he recalled that the nearby Earthlings had named the terrifyingly fatal world of Earth 2 Venus, after a local goddess of love. He feared the Skakoans and Morseerian colonists wouldn't get any love from that world for quite some time.

Behind him DockBay 4 sat empty from where the _Sweet Skako_ had departed. Originally the repair yards there had been slated for battle damage recovery of any vessel damaged in the nearby Empire-Earth War, but so far the primitives of their neighboring world had been unable to score a hit on a single orbiting warship. He begrudgingly reminded himself of the _Carrack_ light cruiser that had been blasted down by a simple railgun over Target East a couple of weeks prior. Of course _Carracks_ weren't his design, so he never thought much of them to start with.

Peering over Gage's couch he could make out the superstructure of the _Victory_-class Star Destroyer _Charger_ in DockBay 9. Initially one of two warships posted to Earth 5 to protect the Tibanna Gas Mining Facility there, it hadn't been a part of the orbital bombardment that had started the ongoing war. The lack of repairs due to the Terrans' primitive weapons allowed for the smaller Star Destroyer to put into port for upgrades to its sensors, shields and weapons. These were all part of the next generation of weapon designs created by his top-notch army of researchers and designers.

His gaze only lit on the _Charger_ for a moment or two before moving onto his pride and joy. DockBays 7 and 8 were filled with the majority of dock workers at the driveyards. At the moment several CT-11 were maneuvering a newly manufactured Executer-50.x engine around the aft portion of the vessel that took up two DockBays.

At nineteen kilometers the starship's construction site was the largest employer besides the military on Mars. It contained a massive, Impervium keel and already thousands of vacuum arc-welders were in the process of applying massive sheets of titanium reinforced alusteel to the hull of the vessel. Their blowtorches erupted around the construction site like flameflies on a warm summer evening back on Kuat.

Its durasteel skeleton rose above the four I-a2b solar ionization reactors that would someday power the vessel. She was supposed to set sail two years from now but Kuat had been in the ship building business for a long time, and knew better than anyone of the thousands of problems that could delay a launch.

Somewhere back in the Home Galaxy this vessel had a twin. His son, the hopefully current Kuat of Kuat, would be overseeing the construction of the _Executor_ at the driveyards around Kuat. Kuat sneered at the name Emperor Palpatine's toady Darth Vader, had chosen for what would someday become his flagship. It was too blunt a name given by a blunt being for such an elegant design.

Kuat had already named the warship under construction before him and he had surprised everyone, including Emperor Yos, by not naming it after his family. Instead he had researched the Earth's so-called classical history, and in honor of the new 1st Martian Empire had designated the first _Super-class_ Star Destroyer _Ares_, after their ancient God of War.

He wished his son was here to see all that he had accomplished here in the Milky Way in just over two years of being cut off from the Old Empire. He thought more and more of the son he had left behind. The boy would surely have made a grand Kuat of Kuat in his father's stead. He was surprised how much he missed the boy, at times he wished he could have changed everything just to have one more conversation with his offspring. It was, he admitted, the greatest sacrifice of his life.

Niobe interrupted his thoughts, "My Kuat of Kuat, Moff Culter is wanting to speak with you, if you so wish."

"We so wish." Kuat turned away from the viewport and sat behind his desk. A few seconds later the two seats on the opposite side of the desk were filled with the blue holoimages of Moff Culter and a tall Kaminoan male who bowed his head in greeting.

"Uredo. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kuat greeted his colleague.

"Greetings, Kuantus. May I present Sel Fa, the Chief Cloner of our colonization efforts." The Anoat Moff offered.

"An honor Sel Fa, I'm surprised we haven't met before this." It wasn't a complete surprise. Kuat had gathered thousands of the finest scientists in hundreds of different fields of expertise before the 'big jump' but cloning wasn't one of them. In fact, until recently he hadn't believed any of the Kaminoan species had come along with them to the Milky Way Galaxy.

"A shame Master Moff," the long-necked Kaminoan stated with its species' signature sing-song trill. "I believe we have much to offer the other.

Kuat doubted it but nodded his head in agreement anyways. He already had an army of well paid and highly trained driveyard workers. Clones would not only triple his costs in production and training, but he wouldn't see any clones for years. "I doubt this is a social call, Uredo. What may I do for you today?"

"We came to check on the production of the two remaining colony ships under construction at your driveyards." Culter said.

"As you already know, I will have both vessels ready for launch in nine months, give or take a month either way. But the _StarGate_ won't have a hyperspace beacon in place around Epsilon Eridani for another standard year and a half. Until S-thread boosters were in place and a hyperspace route mapped, I believe you had planned on keeping both vessels in dry dock, correct?" Kuat asked.

"Could the launch date of either vessel be pushed forward?" Culter asked.

"I guess I could move the workers from one of the vessels to the other and possibly have one of the starships ready in four to five standard months. I'll have all sorts of issues to iron out with the Ithorian and Mon Cal designers, and don't get me started on how loud the driveyard union will scream. But why? It's not like it would have anywhere to go."

"I would double the commission price of the vessel if you could deliver it in four standard months."

"That is most generous my friend. But I have all the credits I could ever need," Kuat lied; he doubted that he'd ever have enough credits. "Perhaps land in place of credits?" It was publicly acknowledged that the Anoat Moff was the largest land baron in the local system.

"Of course, whatever you see fit." Culter exclaimed. Kuat's eyes narrowed, whatever his fellow Moff wanted, he was desperate for.

"Fine, I will require ownership and mineral rights of all land within one hundred kilometers of the Vallis Marineris, upon delivery in four months time of a single, space-worthy colony ship, as well as the initial commission price." Kuat had recently read several survey reports of an abundance of valuable, heavy alloys found in the canyon walls of the deepest trench in the local system. Whoever controlled those minerals would control the production of the next generation of starships.

"Vallis Marineris is in the south adjacent to Solis Planum. That region is slated for ice deliveries from Earth 6 for the formation of Mars' first ocean next year. The Vallis Marineris is expected to be submerged." Culter objected. His Kaminoan partner remained silent as the two Moffs dickered.

"Move the ice deliveries north to..." Kuat looked over at a nearby HoloImage of Mars, "Acidalia Planatia and connect them to the existent Seco Reservoir." Kuat suggested.

Culter looked at the floor, no doubt contemplating the suggestion. "It could be done. The water would then be closer to the agricombines in the Chryse Planitia. You have a deal."

"Excellent. Now can you tell what this is all about?"

Culter hesitated, "My friend, as a terraformer, you must imagine how cloners could make or break a newly formed project."

"Of course, Life doesn't come from nothing." Like most beings of the Home Galaxy he had been taught as a youngling that the Celestials had seeded space with millions of species and animals, and had set them on evolutionary paths of their own.

"There were a couple of cloning firms in Culter City, mainly concerned with livestock and seed cloning. As a killer sabacc array up my sleeve I had personally employed ten former citizens of Kamino under my patronage," Kuat still couldn't believe the Anoat Moff had hidden away the ten top-rate cloners on one of his research ships, especially in a squadron full of Kamino-decanted clones. "You may not know that the two firms, Arkanian Microtechnologies and Spaarti Cloning, have both shut down due to the disappearance of their cloning teams."

"Shocking!" Kuat made a mental note to dump any stock he held in the two companies, "Have they been lured away by another firm. A new start-up perhaps?"

"I don't think so. If I am to believe the yammerings of the Culter City Guard, there were signs of abduction at both firm's manufacturing centers. But that's not the worst of it."

"Oh." Kuat was starting to care less and less about the hows and whys of his friend's dilemma. "There's more?"

Culter looked over at the holoimage of the Kaminoan, who waved for the Moff to continue. "I'm missing some of the Kaminoans."

"How many?" Kuat asked suddenly intrigued?).

"Master Moff, three of my fellow cloners have been kidnapped from our cloning facility aboard the Orbital Laboratory _Biology._" Sel Fa said. Culter visibly winced as the Kaminoan revealed their secret cloning facility's location. "Each of them has vanished in the last two standard Martian rotations."

"Afraid you'll be next?" Kuat asked the lithe being.

"My species does not use fear. We have no need for it." Sel Fa said.

"A pity then, for there is a lot to fear in the universe. So then you are 'worried' about your remaining seven members? Do you have any leads on who might be abducting your beings?"

Culter answered for the two of them, "I suspect clone resistance. It's been no great secret there wasn't a lot of love between the Kaminoans and their products from the last bit of "unpleasantness'."

"They call us aiwha-bait, as if we were no better than feed for animals." Sel Fa said with what Kuat took for a sigh. "We were their creators."

"Am I to understand the next colony ship off of the line will be used by your surviving cloners as a sort of refuge? I assure you there's no place in the local system the clones won't find you."

"We assumed as much." Culter answered. "I suggested to Sel Fa here that his beings might be better off if they used the first batch of hypermatter to follow the _StarGate_ and rendezvous with the exploratory starship before it left the local Oort cloud. They could then follow that starship to Epsilon Eridani without the harassment of this mysterious abductor."

"We also wish to utilize several of the clone vats aboard the colony ship to replicate beings of our own species while on the journey." Sel Fa added.

"Several?"

"Only a few hundred. It was our understanding that Emperor Yos had intended to use the two thousand cloning vats solely for clones of the Twilek species."

"Twileks? Really? Aren't there enough of the tail-heads already on Mars." Kuat asked.

Culter answered again, "The Emperor was feeling pressure from leading citizens of Twileki origin for a home-world of their own. With their current population here on the capitol being quite considerable, it was felt that several of the cloning vats wouldn't be missed if they were filled with clones of a more Kamino bent."

"Ah, I see. An excellent ruse. Though there would be suspicion after the early departure." Kuat's concern was only on the surface. He would get paid no matter what happened, and the addition of the Vallis Marineris only sweetened the deal.

"Suspicion that will be raised after my beings are beyond the reach of our hidden adversary. To further Master Moff Culter's mandates, we shall start the cloning process for the second vessel before we leave. Thus those clones will be four years of age when they are decanted near 61 Virginis."

"Then we have an agreement. Construction will be doubled immediately." Kuat leaned to the side to peer past the two holoimages. "Gage, Niobe, see to it." Both of his aides bowed and silently left the room. "Any ideas on what the species for 61 Virginis will be?"

"I have decided upon Ithorians. The exo-planet discovered there by the earthling astronomers shows great potential for a variety of flora."

"Excellent, the hammerheads are practically terraformers in their own right. Is there anything else I can help you with my friend." Kuat asked.

"Perhaps. I will be in touch. Goodbye, Kuantus."

"Thank you very much for your assistance in this delicate matter Master Moff." Sel Fa bowed his fin-crowned head.

"Good day to you both." Their holoimages faded, leaving a pair of empty plush seats in front of his desk. Kuat sat in silent contemplation wondering about the potential political fallout of Culter's request. The mysterious kidnapper wasn't his concern, but whoever it was had just made him considerably wealthier.

A smaller holoimage of Niobe turned on at the corner to his spacious desk. "My Kuat of Kuat, I detected that your meeting with Moff Culter had concluded. You have been hailed by Admiral Hadrian aboard the _Kuat's Might_. Shall I put him through?"

Kuat hadn't talked to the commander of the Third Kuati Fleet in a few days. He had been lax in keeping up with events involving the war on Earth. As long as orders for new weapons and designs kept coming across his desk, he was more than satisfied to keep his nose out of military affairs. As things stood, Admiral Hadrian was currently tasked to report to the Theater Commander Moff Seco, not his former Kuat of Kuat.

Kuat sneered at the thought of his Ploo peer. He had never been fond of his fellow Moff and relations had further soured after Seco had poached his only Vratix hive of bacta researchers the year prior in an attempt to monopolize a source of the expensive medical supply. Dealings with Seco were commonly icy, only cordial on the best of occasions.

"Yes, put him through."

The holoimage of Admiral Hadrian appeared between the two seats in front of his desk. Instead of the Kuati naval uniform he had worn during the 'big jump', the Admiral now sported the Imperial Navy uniform that had been issued to all of _Tarkin's Fist_. Admiral Hadrian started to give him the Imperial salute but checked himself and whipped off the Kuati military tribute instead.

"We greet you Admiral. We hope all is well with the fleet?" Kuat asked the male who used to serve as his subordinate.

"My Kuat of Kuat, may I presume we are on a secured channel?"

Kuat raised a concerned eyebrow at the suggestion. With his high rank and years of experience in dealing with corporate espionage he could easily afford to utilize security protocols generations beyond anything fielded by the common beings of the Martian Empire. Still, Kuat believed if his trusted Admiral was concerned then it was better to err on the safe side. His hand moved under the table to a secure fingerprint reader. The gesture activated a bank of sound dampers and advanced security monitors in the office.

"You may presume, Admiral."

"My Lord, is it my understanding that only the _Quill_ now stands guard over Mars?" Hadrian asked.

"The _Charger_ is in port as well undergoing retrofitting. My driveyard foremen have assured me she can sail within a six hour notice, but even the slowest Star Destroyer around Earth can arrive back here at Mars within an easy hour's journey."

"That is what I feared."

"What is it that has raised this fear of yours?" Kuat asked, trying to recall the last time he had seen the veteran Kuati commander afraid of anything.

"Several developments over the past week. They may not be anything, but I thought I would bring them to your attention. I am hesitant to speak out against a superior officer, but even though I am a male of my Empire I will always be a Kuati first and foremost."

"Commendable, what is it then, my old friend?"

"I don't know if you have ever met the acquaintance of my nephew, on my wife's side, Longinus? The lad was in the top ten percent of his class at the Raithal Academy and under my patronage he has risen in the officer ranks to the executive officer position aboard the _Kuat's Dragon_. This is despite the fact that it isn't well known that we are related."

"You must be proud of your nephew. I recall the name, rather young for such a high ranking duty station?"

"Indeed, my Lord. Two days ago he was approached in his off-duty hours by an unknown agent. The agent wanted to know Longinus's thoughts on the _Kuat's Dragon's_ current Captain, and Longinus's ability to seize command of the vessel in times of need. The agent then gave my nephew several grams of aurodium to contemplate any hidden meaning he took from the exchange."

"Aurodium? Such a valuable and rare commodity, especially after that failed commando raid on Earth last week."

"A raid that took the lives of quite a few troopers in the Anoat and Subterrel Squadrons."

"Yes, we were lucky that only a handful of Kuati citizens were involved in that debacle." Kuat sighed. He had hoped the influx of aurodium on the Imperial Mercantile Exchange would lower labor costs in his driveyards. "It is strange that this agent was so freely brandishing aurodium about. Do you have any inclinations as to his true motives? Or any idea as to his identity?"

"Not exactly, but I have had three other junior officers ask to meet with me in secret, where they have disclosed that they have each been approached in a similar manner. Each time the agent seemed concerned with the officers seizing control and maintaining the loyalties of their ship's crews. Each was also given a sample of aurodium with a promise for more in the future."

"Could someone be fomenting a mutiny in the Kuati Squadron? And for what purpose?" Kuat asked.

"I don't believe this is being implemented within the ranks of the Kuati Squadron, my Kuat of Kuat. Since last month's coronation there have been several large scale transfers of crew aboard my vessels. This has been excused by the Theater Commander as a way to better integrate all of the squadrons into a more streamlined fighting force, but so-far my vessels have only exchanged personnel with Star Destroyers serving the Ploo Squadron. The Anoat and Subterrel Squadrons seemed to have been omitted from this transfer exchange."

"Who are these crews? If Seco thinks he can plunder some of my best engineers again, he has another thing coming." Kuat felt his anger rising in his throat.

"Almost all of the transfers seem to be security and lower echelon enlisted ranks. Our top engineers and officers are still at their posts. But it is daunting to see these well armed squads of Ploo naval troopers suddenly patrolling my vessel."

"I take it you've taken your concerns to Moff Seco?"

"And had them fall on deaf ears. He dismissed my concerns out-of-hand."

"And what of this aurodium? It's no secret that Seco has credit issues that could only be imagined by Us and Moff Culter." Kuat pointed at his own chest. "Where did all this sudden influx of funds originate from?" Both Kauti remained silent as they searched for their own answers.

"It is well that you brought these concerns to me. If only these few officers approached you, imagine how many took the aurodium from this covert agent and have remained vigilant in their secrecy. I want you to place trusted officers like your nephew Longinus in positions to watch each of my Kuati destroyers in case there is trouble brewing. Have them report clandestinely to your office and keep me posted if anything arises. Also have them ready to react if a hostile takeover of any of my warships is eminent."

"Your will shall be done, My Lord. The true sons of Kuat will always follow the leadership of the Kuat of Kuat." Admiral Hadrian automatically snapped to attention and fired off the Kuati salute as he made his vow.

"As it has always been. Kuat before all else."

"At your leave, my Lord."

"You have it my friend." Kuat motioned that the meeting was over. The holoimage of his Admiral disappeared.

Kuat stood up from his desk and walked back over to the curving, transpiristeel viewport. The tower had turned again and he found himself gazing down of the DockBays containing the _Ares_. His eyes turned to the distant planet that was nothing more than a bright, green star in the void of space. He knew his Kuati Third Fleet was in orbit around the world under the command of his rival Moff.

"What are you playing at, Seco?" Kuat asked the void. The abyss gazed silently back at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_Tarkin's Fist_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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	40. Loi Cas 3

Canton, Missouri, NAU, Earth

The First Lady of the North American Union stretched as she awoke in the large, lonely bed. Jill Harris noted that sunlight was already streaking in from the east through the French doors of her room. She hated sleeping alone but had grown accustomed to it after years of her husband being away on the campaign trail.

The country estate where she had been hidden belonged to one of the state's Congressional Senators who had been a long time supporter of her husband. The home was beautiful and comfortable, which pleased Jill, but the main selling point, she knew, was the Cold War-era bunker that had been dug beneath it. This extra level of protection made her Secret Service detachment happy.

She sat up, her body still tired and achy. She hadn't been getting much sleep at night, especially not since she had started to visit the refugee camps. Millions of her countrymen had lost their homes and taken to the roads. Since there was no fuel to be had for civilians most of them traveled on foot to find whatever food and assistance they could.

To the north, just inside the state of Illinois, sat the largest refugee camp in the world. It was mostly made up of the survivors of Chicago and built around a water treatment plant that pulled fresh water from the Mississippi. The problem with a camp that big and the Union's current transportation crisis was that food was barely trickling into the camp. Because of this thousands of people had already left to take their chances on the roads. Others waited and hoped that her husband was as good as his word.

She knew she would be boarding a boat and heading back up river sometime this afternoon, but she hoped to at least have this morning to spend with her twin boys. As she did every morning, she wondered where in the country her husband was, but understood that it was a matter of security that she didn't know. At least she received digital video messages from him by courier almost every other day, letting her know that he was safe.

She pulled on a robe and stepped into her slippers. A pair of goggles hung on a hook by the door. Due to the toxic air quality her eyes usually felt as if she had spent hours in a heavily chlorinated pool after only a few minutes outside. She donned the goggles, along with a small surgical mask that covered her nose and mouth before moving to the doors. She placed her palm on the fingerprint scanner and unengaged the locks. She opened the doors and stepped out into a dreary Missouri morning. The sickly farmland around her stretched out to the brown ribbon of the Mississippi River a quarter mile away. A thin, smoky haze still covered meager fields of crops that had been thankfully planted before the aliens had come. The First Lady pulled her robe tighter against the morning chill as she stepped out on the balcony.

A few birds chirped away and insects buzzed in the early morning chill. Sometimes she spotted Secret Service agents patrolling out in the fields, but she didn't notice any this morning. She turned and looked down the lengthy balcony and nodded to George, the agent who usually stood this post every morning. George stood leaning against a column, staring at something out in the fields.

"Good morning, George." Jill greeted him. The agent didn't move a muscle. "George?" She started walking towards him. "What is it?" When she was ten feet away she noticed it; a thin metal wire was wrapped around both the column and George's neck. George was dead but the wire was strong enough to hold him on his feet.

She gasped as she turned and ran back into the room, immediately pushing the panic button that would send a squad of heavily-armed Secret Service agents to her side in an instant. She waited for them to arrive. Nothing happened.

"My boys." she said, her breathing getting heavier as panic set in. She ripped off the mask and goggles and flung them to the ground. She had no idea what had killed George or where the rest of her guards were, but as a mother she knew she had to protect her children.

Not sure of what to expect, she inched towards the door to her room that led to the hallway and slowly pushed it open. She stifled a cry as she came across the bodies of two agents leaning against the wall of the hallway. She recognized both of them. She had told them goodnight before heading off to bed only a few hours earlier. Glancing down the hallway to keep an eye out for any incoming threats, she bent down and pulled a pistol from one agent's holster.

She held the weapon out in front of her as she moved quietly down the long hallway. Aside from her muffled footsteps and her careful breathing the house was silent. The normal sounds of housekeepers or the kitchen staff were absent, as was the presence of any of her guard detail. Suddenly a child's laugh came from the boys' room. She knew Cameron's laugh better than her own. She had been the first person to hear it when he had been so tiny.

She controlled her urge to run towards the sound and approached the doorway to her children's room with caution. Another pair of dead agents lay in the hallway there. As she paused outside the room she could hear both of her boys talking inside. Then she heard something else speak, something robotic. Something metallic. Something that didn't belong.

Jill placed her hand upon the door and slowly pushed it open. She led with the gun. As she entered she saw her twin six-year olds showing their toys to an intruder. The alien figure wore a weird set of armor that looked oddly like the armor she had seen in pictures of the alien soldiers in LA, though this one was painted gray and blue. It still had its back to her so she couldn't be sure if it was an alien or not. Jill noted the figure wore some sort of rocket jetpack on its armored back and had a long braid of strawberry-blonde hair that was protected by strips of metal. Suddenly the alien stood up, and it became evident that by the cut of the armor that the figure was female.

With a motion too quick to follow, the alien spun around. A metal fiber shot out of its gauntlet and wrapped itself around Jill's wrist. The alien yanked the cord and the First Lady dropped her weapon to the floor.

"Who? What are you?" She asked.

"Are you _di'kut_? I am obviously _mando'ad._ As to who I am, I am Nichole Felk _ad'ike_ to the _Cul'val Dar _Hota Felk and you are my prisoner." The strange female seemed to be switching between two languages. The First Lady only understood her last word.

"My boys?" She asked softly, her mouth dry from fear. Her eyes flicked to her boys and she noted with relief that they did not appear harmed.

"Maybe they will not be hurt. Maybe they will. They can come with us. I have two _adiik_ as well. Someday they will be bounty hunters like me." The alien's electronically amplified voice filled the room with dripping menace.

"You are a mother? Then you can understand. I will do anything, just don't harm them."

"Tell me where your husband is." Nichole Felk growled.

"Ca. . .Ca. . .Canada. He's in Canada." Jill lied. She had no idea where he was and said a silent prayer of thanks that she had been kept in the dark about his location.

The alien yanked the cord again, pulling the First Lady to her knees. Nichole Felk put her helmet directly in front of Jill's face. The First Lady was certain that on the other side of the darkened, T-shape lens the alien was staring straight into her eyes.

Jill Harris could have counted the heartbeats as her captor stared her down. "You lie. You will come with me."

"But what about my boys?" Jill cried.

"Grab them." Nichole Felk said. Jill gasped as a lizard-man stepped out of a nearby closet. It bent down and scooped up the children, who, though they had earlier seemed to be content playing with the curious female alien, suddenly burst into tears as they watched the armored female place a set of strange handcuffs on their mother.

"This way." the alien led Jill by the cuffs out of the room and down the hallway. They went straight out the front door where an odd spacecraft waited on the lawn of the estate. The UFO looked like a flying frying pan that had several laser guns sticking out of its handle. The lizard-man carried her boys inside the craft.

Jill Harris, First Lady of the North American Union turned to Nichole Felk, alien bounty hunter, as she was led into the spaceship. "I can't believe you would do this to another mother."

"You're just a job." the ramp closed behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Tarkin's Fist~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Changzhou, People's Republic of China, Earth **

Changzhou's name meant 'Ordinary Prefecture'. Colonel Loi Cas of the 3289th Armored Brigade thought the name was well deserved. The ancient city was known for two things: its modern day Dinosaur theme park, which had been blasted into piles of scrap metal by the aliens, and its comb museum. Combs were not something that excited the Colonel very much.

If he could have he would have left the town and forgotten all about it the moment his tank drove across the city limit. If he had his choice he'd drive it all the way home to his wife and daughter in Beijing. Unfortunately it was in Changzhou that the 31st Group Army had been ordered to dig in, so it was there that he would stay.

Currently he sat on the front deck of his command Type 99G main battle tank somewhere behind the main line of resistance for the People's Liberation Army outside of the Shanghai theater of operations. He patted the steel deck below him lovingly, knowing that the armored beast had been only one of three tanks in his original compliment of thirty-six to make it out of the hell that had been the Battle of Shanghai.

His tank was parked next to a collapsed mechanic's garage and his crew had liberally buried his track in camouflaging debris to keep it from the prying eyes of the aliens. Unless you were standing a few meters away, a person would think his position was nothing more than a ruble pile with a large pipe sticking out the front of it. His tank was not only concealed, but its hull was protected by a dirt berm that bordered a nearby rice paddy. Dirt, it had been found, was the only thing that seemed to slow the alien laser fire.

Spread out across hidden entrenchments behind him were seventeen other similar debris piles, each containing another Type 99G MBT. They made up his new command, thrown together from the survivors of five other shattered Armored Brigades that had escaped from the disaster at Shanghai. The crews manning those tanks knew better than most the alien's deadly capabilities at locating hidden soldiers.

Down the road from his concealed position sat the China Dinosaur Park. Its roller coasters and attractions had been destroyed several weeks ago by the alien's artillery fire and quick striking 'flying eyeball' bombers. In what had once served as the park's car lot sat thirty-six fancy new Type 20 MBTs, right out in the open. They had arrived in their new position sometime during the previous night. He wondered what the Colonel of their unit was thinking leaving his men exposed like that.

Loi Cas swung his binoculars from the achingly vulnerable tanks across the molten glass of no-man's-land to the ruins of enemy-occupied Wuxi twelve kilometers away. Since every obstacle and building had been reduced to dust between the two opposing forces he could make out the outlines of several of the monstrous 'dragon-walkers' sitting idly behind the enemy's front lines.

During the withdrawal from Shanghai any movement or exposure had risked drawing fatally quick laser fire from the devilish aliens. Now those dragon-walkers sat in silence, watching the Chinese continue to dig in across from them. He even noticed two of the machines turn their 'heads' in the direction of the Type 20s, but both of them held their fire.

He had witnessed on several occasions that the walkers' cannons could easily blast across the distance between the two armies. "If they can see you, they can hit you." He whispered to himself. Yet for the second week in a row the aliens refrained from attacking Chinese targets.

A shrill whistle came from the Type 20 position. Colonel Loi looked back that way and watched as the crews scrambled back aboard their tanks. A minute later the first of them left the car lot, hopefully for better, positions elsewhere. He snorted when he realized what had just happened.

Somebody with a lot more stars on his collar had ordered those tanks and their crews to stand out in the open like that. They must have been emplaced there to draw fire from the aliens. Well, nobody said the invaders were stupid. Not a single enemy position had been given away by the ruse, and yet Cas worried about how casually the Generals in command of the People's Liberation Army had risked the lives of their soldiers.

Ever since the army had retreated out of the current alien occupation zones and the devils had erected that 'force-shield' over their own forces, his army's leaders hadn't been shy about throwing away lives to try to reenter the enemy-held city.

Three human wave attacks had been launched several days apart and from different directions as the Army had tested the alien defenses. Three times hordes of Chinese infantry had surged across the exposed no-man's-land towards Shanghai. Three times they had been repulsed and forced to retreat with their tails between their legs.

Nobody was saying much, but Cas had overheard hushed conversations when he visited headquarters that the combined attacks had cost China over a hundred thousand of its brave soldiers each time they failed to reach the enemy lines.

The frustrating part was the enemy's shield. That defense prevented all types of ordinance from penetrating. When they had attacked the alien devils had been able to fire their laser weapons through the barrier, but everything from the bullets to the largest artillery shell was stopped cold by the 'force-field'. Cas doubted that any of the attacks on the enemy fortification had garnered any dead soldiers. A waste he told himself.

Of course, with the way the _Guoanbu, _the Ministry of State Security soldiers, prowled the Chinese lines, Cas knew it was wise to keep such thoughts to himself. Already in the past week there had been dozens of public executions of defeatists and so-called insurrectionists, even a few for cowardice in the face of the enemy. Rumors were that the pace of executions was going to pick up soon if the army couldn't somehow force its way back into Shanghai. Cas believed it. Better to keep his mouth shut than end up in front of one of the People's firing squads.

Cas raised his binoculars to his eyes again. Through the constant cloud of Chinese artillery impacts on the alien force-field he started to count the number of Dragon-walkers that were present to his direct front. Four more than yesterday, he noted, marking their locations on his map, which was four more than the day before that. If Cas had been a betting man he would have laid odds that the alien devils were starting to build up for a break out sometime soon.

He hoped Command noticed that as well.

A roar overhead made him whip his head in that direction. A flight of five Chengdu J-20 stealth fighters raced along the Chinese front lines. Those pilots certainly were brazen to show themselves in daylight like this, he thought.

He turned back and scanned the alien lines for any response and picked out several of the flat-sided alien fighters flying patrol on the other side of the shield. From their position they couldn't have missed the brazen flight of China's top fighters, but they made no move to intercept.

Behind the shield, a few miles to the north, an enemy anti-aircraft gun shot out a lazy stream of lasers at the J-20s. The fighters hastily evaded and screamed away to the west, one of them trailing wisps of smoke. Cas marked down the previously unknown position of the anti-aircraft battery on his map. He was sure he wasn't the only Chinese commander doing so.

"What are they waiting for?" he quietly asked himself. The driver of his command tank looked over at him from the hull hatch with questioning eyes. Loi Cas ignored the young conscript and kept his thoughts to himself.

He was worried about the future of the People's Liberation Army. The aliens had smashed the three Group Armies of the Nanjing Military Region when they had taken Shanghai along with a quarter million professional soldiers that made up those units. After the fall of Shanghai, the generals had thrown away almost three times that amount of soldiers, sailors, and marines trying to retake the beleaguered city.

The People's Liberation Army's Navy had been all but sunk by the invaders and the Air Force had been ground to dust or was in hiding. Cas had heard rumors that millions of new troops were on the march towards the coast, but even as new units had poured into the Chinese lines the Armor Colonel had seen they were anything but fresh.

Infantry had marched for hundreds of miles with only the food they had carried on their backs. Soldiers told of every bridge and major city being destroyed and having to bivouac in the graveyard ruins of what had once been China's thriving metropolises. Soldiers told of the civilian population being forced into the surviving factories and rice paddies almost at gunpoint.

Cas knew about some of that. He saw the difficulties the army had in getting supplies and rations to the men at the front. Already he had cut his men's rations in half to maintain their dwindling supply and one of his tanks sat behind the lines in a ditch, slowly being cannibalized by his crews for spare parts that weren't coming up to the front fast enough.

By the constant thunderous din to his rear and front the only thing that was coming up in any great amount was ammunition. The unending artillery barrage was only interrupted whenever the enemy randomly returned deadly effective counter-battery fire a few times every day. Cas wondered if the aliens were conserving ammunition for some unseen reason.

"Colonel Loi of the 3289th Armored Brigade?" a voice asked from the side of the tank.

Cas turned in response to the new voice and was surprised to see a goggled messenger saddled on top of a brown horse alongside his modern Type 99G MBT. "Colonel Loi?" The messenger asked again.

"Yes, that's me." he confirmed.

"General Ziren requests your presence at 31st Group Army headquarters. Do you know where that is?" the messenger asked. Cas wasn't sure if the soldier was being insolent or not. The messenger handed him a set of orders to report to the General.

"If it hasn't been blown up in the past few hours it should still be at the Comb Museum in Changzhou."

"It hasn't been located by enemy forces as of yet, Comrade Colonel. It should still be where you remember." The horse-borne soldier saluted and then wheeled his mount around before galloping off to the rear.

"Was he really on a horse?" Cas's gunner yelled down from the main turret hatch.

"You'll be seeing more of them, too, unless the cooks get them first. Got word this morning that petrol is only to be utilized for essential maneuvers only. The supply units have been having trouble getting their fuel tankers forward."

"I wonder what they'll find to bring us, especially with all the wells and tankers in the South China Sea being taken out and the pipelines from central Asia being smashed from space. Any ideas, Colonel?" the gunner asked a troubling question. Today his tanks were full of gas. Tomorrow though, who knew?

"I will be back in a few hours. Send some men out on a forage detail. One per tank, I don't want to be short too many crews if something happens. Have them try to locate food, ammo, or fuel if they can. Then whatever other supplies they can after that."

"Yes, Sir." The gunner responded, ducking into their tank to retrieve signal flags to communicate with the other tracks.

Cas climbed over the debris covering his tank until he reached a small communication trench running behind the vehicle. Within a hundred meters the zig-zagging trench took him to one of the infantry's main lines of resistance.

Thousands of soldiers continued to dig and improve their army's position. Cas was relieved that the trench he found himself in allowed him to stand fully upright without exposing his head. The aliens had a nasty sniper rifle that could reach across the no-man's-land that separated the armies with ease. Every other hour or so some unlucky Chinese soldier found out just how powerful a laser rifle it was, too, usually by a laser bolt through the back of his head.

A special-forces sniper had told him that the alien gun could shoot so far because unlike a bullet, the laser probably had negligible fall caused by gravity. The only thing that appeared to slow down the enemy's lasers was air. Intelligence was already spreading rumors that the aliens couldn't shoot as far on humid days. Cas pondered the logic and figured the high-foreheads with the slide rulers might be on to something. Unfortunately it was a learning curve that still cost more and more soldier's their lives every day.

Colonel Loi made his way by foot out of the forward trenches and towards Changzhou. Out of habit he covered his ears after he crossed a pontoon bridge over the Beijing Hangzhou Grand Canal and was greeted by the sight of dozens of acres covered with the guns of several entrenched artillery brigades. Their heavy guns released an unending bombardment at the alien positions in what had so far proven to be a fruitless attempt to crack the enemy's shield.

Cas kept his mouth open as he passed the guns because the pressure caused by their constant firing threatened to rupture his eardrums. In their sandbagged entrenchments the artillery crews were stripped down to their waists due to the springtime heat. The amassed guns were another tempting target that the aliens refused to engage from their revetments to the east.

The Armor Colonel crossed the lines of artillery as quickly as he could, assured in his mind that the short journey would cause his ears to ring for weeks. He was surprised to see amongst the mechanized and motorized gun transports behind the artillery lines a smattering of horse-drawn limbers waiting to serve their crews. He wondered what that said about the army's gas shortages that the animals had shown up so quickly after the aliens had seized control of Shanghai.

He was forced to the side of a road as he entered Changzhou as a bicycle-mounted regiment of infantry moved up to the front lines. The soldiers were laden down with supplies on their backs and several of the bicycles pulled wagons with large loads of food and ammo. Cas wondered if the infantry regiment expected any more supplies than what they carried with them.

Except for the presence of tens of thousands of the soldiers of the PLA, Changzhou was a ghost town. Most of its original inhabitants had fled when it had appeared as if the aliens would continue their advance out Shanghai. After the space devils had stopped and erected their shield, Cas's own army had forcibly evicted the remainder of the civilians in the area to somewhere farther away. Cas had no idea where they had been moved to and hadn't dared to ask his superiors either. He knew there simply hadn't been any food in the area to feed the civilians, given that most of the local rice paddies lay between the two armies. Only a fool would have dared to farm out there.

Cas arrived at 31st Army Group headquarters and was relieved to find that it was still standing. The aliens were experts on locating signals and silencing them with their own energy artillery, and nothing gave off signals like an army headquarters unit. Several aides informed him that General Ziren wasn't present and that his superior could be found a few hundred meters north along the banks of the Yangtze River. Cas thanked the aides and moved out in that direction, hoping to get this errand over and done with.

Cas found General Ziren along with several dozen special forces commandos in a heavily damaged dockyard boathouse along the river. The Yangtze was the longest river in Asia and one of the widest. Since the destruction of the Three Gorges Dam last year by the aliens in their attack on the world's power plants the river had swelled to heights it hadn't seen in almost a hundred years. The waters of the Yangtze were clogged with floating debris picked up by the destruction of a dozen cities that lined the river.

Cas saluted Ziren who was watching the commandos work along the bank of the river. The commandos were in the process of tearing apart a damaged pier and using the wreckage to camouflage dozens of inflatable Zodiacs. Cas noted the boats were full of crates of explosives, weapons, and diving gear.

"What are they up to, Sir?" Cas asked, pointing at the commandos on the slope below.

"We've had some luck infiltrating soldiers into Shanghai underneath the shield. They can float up to the force field the aliens have put up, don their diving gear, and swim up to the ruined docks of the city. That shield only penetrates the river to a depth of a few meters or so." Ziren explained.

"Sounds dangerous."

"Oh, it is. The aliens have only extended the shield half way across the river. Intelligence figures they did it maily to let debris float out to sea and to prevent themselves from damming up the whole Yangtze, but also so our ground forces across the river in Nantong and Chongming couldn't get under it. Also they have several of their dragon-walkers, well actually dragon-swimmers, stationed on their side of the shield in the river itself."

"How many of the commandos get through?"

"Observers in Chongming are claiming about fifty percent. The dragon-swimmers pick up a few, but those that sneak through are giving the alien devils hell inside Shanghai, I'm sure of it."

"You aren't in communication with the soldiers inside Shanghai, Sir?" Cas asked incredulously.

"The aliens jam everything that comes out of there. Some commandos have launched flares that have told us they made it inside, but other than that we've heard nothing but scattered reports from refugees that have been lucky enough to make it across the no-man's-land."

"What are they accomplishing?" Cas hoped it was a lot.

Ziren leaned close, trying not to draw the attention of several nearby _Guoanbu _officers who were also watching the progress of the commandos. The general spoke softly. "Car bombs, sniper-work, and such, we've inflicted some casualties, but it's been nothing more than a harassment campaign so far. They've done a good job persuading any of our people left behind not to lend a hand in aide to the invaders. Brutal work that is, but necessary. It hasn't kept the alien devils from landing more of their spaceships and building up for whatever they do next. You didn't hear that from me, understood?"

Cas gave a barely perceivable nod. "This can't be what you wanted to see me about though, Sir. I fail to see what these commandos have to do with my own command."

"You're right. It's got nothing to do with you directly, I was just overseeing their work when you arrived. Come walk with me back to HQ."

Cas turned and walked with his superior officer, as they made small talk. "How is your unit? Do they have enough fuel?"

"For one battle, maybe a day's worth of maneuvering." Cas answered. Ziren nodded, appearing to be in deep contemplation as they walked.

"More fuel is on its way. I can you get all the ammunition you want right now, Loi."

"That would be appreciated, Sir." Cas worried why Ziren didn't promise more fuel. They arrived back at headquarters, which was located in the camouflaged ruins of the Changzhou Comb Museum. Cas felt that if the HQ wasn't here he would have never known that such a dull place existed.

Inside the building he was surprised by the presence of several new arrivals. At least a dozen officers of both the Korean Union's army and the Russian Federation's. Cas quickly studied their unit patches and noted that they were armor commanders just like him. An aide made the introductions as General Ziren seemed just as surprised by the presence of the foreign troops as Cas himself. The aide also acted as a translator, though Cas noted that the translations were in English and not Chinese, Russian, or Korean. A language Cas understood a little from his college days.

"Our units will be in the line here in one week" a Korean General officer promised.

"Two to three weeks before our first armor brigades will arrive. It would be sooner if the damn aliens weren't smashing all the rail bridges between here and the border. May the Devil's Grandmother take them all." A Russian Colonel spit in disgust.

Ziren spoke to the gathered foreigners, all of them sent ahead of their units to assess the situation on the ground here. "Gentlemen, this is Colonel Loi of the 3289th Armored Brigade. His tanks fought the aliens inside of Shanghai and he was able to live and tell the tale."

All of the foreign officer's attention turned to him. "Colonel, what can you tell of the capabilities of the Ay Tee Ay Tees?"

Cas wasn't sure if he understood the heavily Korean-accented question. "Excuse me, I do not know this term? Ay Tee..."

"Ay Tee Ay Tees. We got the name from the Americans. They captured a couple of prisoners before abandoning Los Angeles. Those prisoners have stated the name for the enemy's heavy walker is an Ay Tee Ay Tee. We only learned this ourselves this past week when the Americans got an intelligence packet over to us and Japan from their bases in Alaska." The Korean explained.

"The dragon-walkers!" Ziren exclaimed. "So they have a name." Cas thought this was troubling in that he knew for a fact the Army had turned over several prisoners to the _Guoanbu _for interrogation. How come frontline Chinese soldiers weren't getting simple information like their allies were?

"None we know of so far. We hit them with everything short of a battleship and they kept on coming. The only time I saw one slowed down was when they were crossing the Huangpu. We scored a lucky hit on one of their 'necks' before retreating. The dragon-walker, excuse me, Ay Tee Ay Tee, didn't move again after that."

"Was it destroyed or disabled?" A Russian asked, his voice sounding more Asian than European, suggesting he had been raised east of the Urals.

"We don't know. It wasn't smoking or falling over. We were forced to retreat only a moment later. I lost half my tanks in less time than it takes to tell you about it. Their laser cannons have no trouble with the armor on our Type 99 or Type 20s." Cas heard some coughs of objection to his statement. He knew the Korean tankers with their reliance on American tanks looked down their nose at Chinese tanks. Well they'd learn their own hard lesson in a few weeks, he told himself.

"How many other enemy Ay Tee Ay Tees were destroyed in the defense of Shanghai?" Another Russian Colonel asked.

Cas looked at Ziren, wondering how he should proceed. Ziren just shrugged his shoulders. Cas took this to mean that he should proceed as he saw fit. "No known enemy dragon-walkers were destroyed before we were forced to give up the defense of the Shanghai Zone. There was one unconfirmed report of a walker being knocked over behind enemy lines by an aircraft of some sort, but that report was never confirmed by our own forces on the ground."

The foreigners took his words for what they were. Most of them sat in silence as they contemplated them. A few shook their heads in disbelief. Ziren tugged at his sleeve. "Come with me, Colonel."

Cas was glad to step away from the new arrivals for now. Their ignorance of the alien-devils would wind up getting a lot of them killed. Worse, their inexperience could get him killed.

He followed General Ziren through the rubble of the museum. As they went deeper into the poorly lit edifice they passed hundreds of aides, messengers, guards, and soldiers huddled about their work in the cavernous museum. A radio played a static-filled station out of somewhere near what was left of Jinan. A signal warfare unit was huddled around their equipment, now and then getting excited when a muffled word of what sounded like English issued from their speakers.

Ziren led him past all of that and into a small room that passed for his office. The General signaled for his chief aide to leave and waited a minute for the young soldier to excuse himself. Cas noted a large cardboard box filled brim with manilla-colored envelopes.

"This came yesterday. I'm only doing this in person because you are one of my top surviving commanders." Ziren explained as he pulled one of the envelopes out of the box. He hesitated for a brief second before placing it into Cas's hands. "I'm sorry. Take all the time you need."

Cas's face formed an unspoken question as the General walked past him and out of the room, leaving Cas alone with the envelope. It was addressed to him, with his rank and unit number along with his Communist Party of China registration number. He gasped when he saw that it came from the esteemed office of the General Secretary of the CPC. He looked at the box again and saw that they all came from the same sender.

His fingers trembled as he tore the seal on the envelope open, careful not to rip the contents. He pulled out a single leaf of folded paper, he took a deep breath, and opened it.

_To Colonel Loi Cas, Commander 3289th Armored Brigade,_

_The Communist Party of China regrets to inform you that on the date of March 10th of this year, dental records identified the remains of Loi Qing and Loi Min. Their remains were discovered inside the ruins of your listed residence in the municipality of Beijing. Cause of death had been determined to be a result of attacks committed by orbiting strike vessels currently employed against the People's Republic of China and its allies._

_The remains can be viewed in plot WDE-4567 and WDE-4568 of Beijing Emergency Cemetery 23. Our sincerest condolences go out towards you and your personal loss. _

_Onwards to victory,_

_Secretariat Mao Duxiu_

_General Secretary of the Communist Party of China_

Cas let the letter fall from his hands. His wife and daughter were gone. Their faces were all that filled his vision as his pounding heart threatened to leap from his chest. He put his hand forward to steady himself on Ziren's desk as his legs threatened to give out from under him.

His family had been murdered, stolen from him over a month ago. He remembered the date, confirming their deaths on the day the aliens had begun their horrible bombardment of his country. The day he had led his tanks into Shanghai.

He had lost half his men the day after that. He suddenly felt incredibly useless. As a soldier he had led his men into the disaster at Shanghai. At the same time he had failed as a man, as a husband, and as a father. He hadn't been there to protect them.

Tears poured down his cheeks but he caught himself before he started openly sobbing. His mind reeled and then snapped suddenly into place. He forced the pain and the sorrow deep down into his soul and buried it with rage.

The alien-devils did this. They would pay.

Cas pulled himself up. He wiped away his tears and straightened his uniform. He bent down and picked up the letter, folded it, and shoved it into his pants pocket before turning and leaving the unit. The Loi Cas that left that office was not the same one that had entered it.

General Ziren was talking to the signal interception soldiers when he noticed Cas leave his office. He walked over to Cas. "Comrade Colonel, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, Sir. I'd like to get back to my men."

"Of course. You are dismissed." Both men whipped off a crisp salute to the other.

Cas walked away from the General, sure that the superior officer was staring dumbfounded at his retreating back. The General must have expected a broken man to leave his office. Instead Cas had come out of that small office with a single, consuming purpose. To kill alien-devils.

Cas hardly noticed leaving the HQ. He walked along the road back to his unit, looking between the piles of rubble and Chinese entrenchments for glimpses of distant dragon-walkers behind the enemy's force field.

He walked past a column of infantry in fresh uniforms arriving at the front lines as the sun dipped down below the plains in the west. Shadows grew long and faded as he passed the fields of artillery crews serving their weapons. Now the artillery men were dressed against the coming evening chill as they ran to meet oncoming lorries filled with more artillery shells to heave uselessly at the enemy.

Night had fallen by the time he was crossing the Grand Canal by one of its makeshift pontoon bridges. He suddenly heard dozens of machine guns open up from his sector ahead of him. He broke into a run and covered the half kilometer to his brigade in only a few minutes.

He found his tank and crawled inside the commander's cupola. Several commo lines ran out from his radio handset and out the hatch to where the other tanks of his brigade were hidden.

"Situation report." He ordered his gunner as soon as he was in the tank commander's seat.

"Enemy scout soldiers. At least a platoon's worth. They're all on those crazy flying motorcycles of theirs." The gunner told him.

"What are they up to?"

"Been racing up and down the line for the past twenty minutes, strafing up the infantry in front of us." His loader reported from across the turret.

"My gun sites and targeting computer won't get a lock on them. They're too quick to catch with the laser range finder and the main gun at the same time. Infantry up ahead is just popping away with their machine guns, hoping for a lucky hit." The gunner explained.

Cas nodded. He watched out of his night vision thermal sights as several blurry images raced about out in the no-man's-land. Their speed was incredible. If he had to guess they were doing 400 to 500 kilometers an hour. Outside of his open hatch the whine of their engines could be heard above the sound of the infantry's futile machine gun fire.

A second later two of the speedy bikes raced from separate directions at the same machine gun nest. Laser blasts erupted from underneath the flying machines. Cas doubted the infantry ever saw them coming.

The enemy blasts tore into the machine gun position only a hundred meters to his front. Their red lasers tore through dirt, metal, and flesh alike. Sudden screams and moans drifted into the open hatch, along with receding engine noises as the enemy scouts retreated back out into no-man's-land.

Cas continued to watch the blurs of motion between the line. Observing several times as groups of them hit sections of his line from various angles.

Cas never moved his face from pressing against his gun sites as he watched the skirmish unfold outside. "Loader, do we have a Beehive round?" he asked out of the side of his mouth.

"One, Colonel, all the tanks got issued one when we restocked a few days ago." the young conscript reported.

"Load it." Cas ordered. Cas's ears picked up the familiar sounds of the loader opening the ammo locker, pulling out the oversized round, and slapping it into the main gun's barrel. A clang sounded out as the gun's breech clamped shut behind the round.

He picked up the radio handset and keyed the handle to send along the land lines that led to each of the other tanks under his command. "All Mongol Tangos this is Mongol Six. Area suppression mission front. Straight front. Load Beehive. Confirm ready status."

"Mongol ten ready."

"Mongol three ready."

"Mongol fifteen ready."

"Mongol five..." the crews of Cas's brigade confirmed that they were all standing by their weapons. Eighteen 125mm smoothbore main battle tanks stood at the ready. Primed and loaded, their gunner's trigger fingers hovering over the firing switches.

Cas watched and waited. Sweat poured down his back despite the cool spring breeze coming in from the open hatch. His heart pounded in his temples. His crew held their breath as they waited for his order.

Finally another machine gun in his sector blindingly fired out towards the unseen enemy. Cas noticed as several fast moving blurs raced about in front of his sector. Suddenly from seven kilometers away they turned and moved on the hapless machine gun crew. From half way across the no-man's-land the first of their laser cannons fired.

Cas waited three heartbeats. "Fire!"

His own gun fired and recoiled backwards inside the turret. The smell of cordite filled the cramped space.

Ahead of him eighteen rounds raced over the infantry entrenchments until their mechanical timers activated their detonators. Each of the shells exploded and released eight thousand metal flachettes towards their targets. The tiny, dart-like projectiles made a buzzing noise as they spread out before his brigade like a giant sweeping broom.

The onrushing alien scouts hit the spreading cloud of flachettes like they were taking a shotgun blast to the face.

Three of the alien flying bikes simply exploded or disintegrated in mid-air, spreading their riders like jelly across the ground. A fourth rider was hit by the blast squarely in his upper torso. The blast decapitated him and sent his bike like a flaming missile into the infantry lines.

Another rider seemed to lose his ability to fly straight. His bike performed a series of rapid spins before impacting the front of a Chinese anti-tank bunker.

The last rider had turned his bike to use it as a shield at the last second. Hundreds of flachettes hit the doomed vehicle and the alien's legs. The rider slammed the nose of his craft into the lip of the infantry trench ahead of Cas's tank. The alien-devil was flung far into the Chinese lines while his bike exploded in a trench full of soldiers. The alien impacted the ground hard, crumpling like a rag doll as his body rolled to a stop towards the front of Cas's tank.

Cas was out of the open hatch in a heartbeat. He lunged off of the front slope of his tank and sprinted the remaining fifty meters to the alien. He was the first to arrive.

The alien had lost its helmet in the crash. Blood and burns covered its face. Cas was glad when he discovered the alien was still alive.

In blood-soaked, white armor, the alien had the appearance of a white man whose face was twisted in pain. One of its arms wasn't moving. As it grasped the dirt with its good arm in a futile effort to move away from Cas, who stood over the wounded space-devil.

It rolled over onto its back. Cas watched as it reached along one of its legs towards an empty weapon holster. Cas guessed it must have lost its sidearm in the crash.

Cas still had his. He pulled his sidearm free and pointed it at the alien. "You murdered my wife and daughter. You deserve worse than this."

The alien's face contorted in confusion when it heard his words spoken in Cantonese. "Kriffing abo..."

Cas squeezed his trigger.

The pop of his pistol was punctuated by the impact on the alien's skull. The devil's head flopped back as a spray of blood shot upwards.

Cas stood in the open space above the dead alien, fully exposed to alien sniper fire from Shanghai. He turned, pistol in hand, and stared across at the enemy positions. In the darkness of the night he made out several long, horizontal, red lights that he knew were the distant 'heads' of the deadly dragon-walkers. Now he had a name for them; Ay Tee Ay Tees.

They too, had murdered his family. His wife and daughter were gone, safe in the hands of his ancestors. He knew that. And before he joined his ancestors as well he intended to bring them the head of a dragon.

He pointed the pistol at one of the far away lights. "You're next."


	41. Roblin 3

Marine Corps Air Station Yuma, Yuma, Arizona, NAU

President Harris watched the frantic activity of the airfield under the cover of darkness. Hundreds of airmen and groundcrew, clad in night-vision gear, readied the next attempt to crack the mysterious force field that protected the alien landing zones inside Los Angeles.

The Marine Corps' air base was rather small compared to some of the other bases in the Union. Used mainly as a training base for fighter pilots, it had been one of only a few small airbases that was left undisturbed by the alien's 'Star Destroyers', even though it was well within range of their toehold in Upper California.

Four specially modified old B-52 'BUFFs', or as their aircrews knew them, Big Ugly Fat Fucks, idled in formation at the end of the runway. Another fifty fighters, pieced together from a dozen squadrons that had survived the initial Battle of LA, were being prepped for the early morning assault.

The sheer volume of noise on the runway was awe-inspiring. Harris tried to push his fear of more aircrew losses aside. The North American Union had to be seen striking back at the invading Imperials. If one trick didn't work, then he would try another and another.

Thanks to recent intelligence he had come to realize that his only advantage so far was in sheer numbers. The people of Earth outnumbered the extraterrestrials at a rate of almost fifty to one. So, even if this attack only killed a dozen Imperials he would come out ahead. It was a heartless calculation in the grim mathematics of this war but it had to be made.

After the initial bombardment of Earth, which some of his analysts estimated had killed between a sixth to a fifth of the world's population, he hoped the Imperials had already done their worst. With the nightmares he had of the countless dead every night and the ongoing suffering of the survivors, what more could the aliens do to the NAU? He didn't know. And he hated the unknown.

"Mr. President, the men from the JPL are here to see you." His secretary announced. The President turned and nodded at the woman who had accompanied his convoy across the country. Secret Servicemen in combat fatigues and armed with assault rifles led him back to his armored car for the short ride to a nearby hanger.

At his destination he was met by the aide-de-camp to the Marine Corps Commandant who was currently commanding Marines outside of LA. "Mr. President, Sir. Just need your signature on these approval forms." The young officer asked as the President strode towards the hanger.

"Of course, what are they?"

"Requisitions for the raising and arming of four more Marine Divisions to be trained in the Great Lakes Region."

"Why so far from the action?"

"Anything closer was thought to be detrimental to the fighting strength of the soldiers already manning the alien containment lines. These new divisions will be raised in Michigan and Wisconsin, given rudimentary basic training and equipment, and then marched west. Their training will continue en route."

"So they'll be fully trained when they arrive?"

"That's the theory, Sir. The army is doing the same thing with the new divisions it's raising back east and in southern Mexico."

"Fine, it's approved. I don't know where you're going to come up with provisions for those units as they march though."

"Don't worry, Sir, we'll manage. We're Marines." The officer saluted and trotted off.

The President entered the hanger. Banks of folding tables filled with military officers and civilian contractors manning laptops, short-wave radios, massive encryption computers, and land-line telephones. Messengers raced in and out of the building. On the far wall a giant map showed both friendly and enemy positions around Los Angeles. The dominant feature was a perfect circle that stretched from Riverside County to well out onto the Channel Islands out in the Pacific that marked the boundaries of the alien's energy shield. Several enlisted soldiers moved icons around a large, touch-screen plasma HD monitor that displayed units slowly making their way across the continent.

"Attention!" someone shouted when he entered. Dozens of soldiers snapped to attention around the bay.

"As you were." he replied. The soldiers and airmen wasted no time getting back to their work.

"Mr. President, this way if you will. The folks from the Jet Propulsion Lab are anxious to meet with you." An Air Force Brigadier General showed Harris to a large conference room in the back of the hanger that had been set aside for his use.

Ten scientists awaited him within its confines. He half expected them to be wearing white lab coats and carrying slide rulers. Instead they wore a mix of casual civilian attire and ill-fitting military uniforms. The scientists had been squirreled out of LA before the alien landing and shuttled around the western portion of the Union in much the same manner as he had.

"Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen. I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time for pleasantries. My convoy is set to get on the road again in a few hours. So, what are our biggest issues?"

"Mr. President, I'm Dr. Richards. Director of JPL." The man seated directly in front of his makeshift desk said. "Our biggest worry at the moment is materials."

"I'm acutely aware of the fuel shortage the Union is experiencing. We're doing everything in our power to get as much fuel as we can into the hands of the military. Do you have a new fuel cell or type of engine that doesn't run on gasoline, yet?"

"We're close." Richards reported. The President took that with a grain of salt. Like most Americans he had been hearing promises that an alternative fuel source was right around the corner his entire life. "We had several dozen prototype Hydrogen-fuel cell projects in the works but we were still a few years away from putting them into mainstream production before the aliens invaded. But now we've got a look at several samples of the Imperial Ion engines they use in their fighter craft. We're learning things by leaps and bounds."

"In regards to our current capabilities, how far ahead of us are they? If you had to guess?" The President asked.

"Millenia, Mr. President. Sorry, Doctor Stark from DARPA." A man at the back of the pack answered for the group. "I was with JPL during their evacuation. The Imperial equipment is showing a level of sophistication that sci-fi writers are only starting to dream of. Every system they use is light years beyond our own. If they had a dedicated atmospheric fighter I dare say they might have swept us from the skies by now."

"That could be." Richards continued, "However the shortages that we're concerned with are more along the lines of rare earth minerals."

The President braced himself. When he had first become the Commander-in-Chief he had been briefed on how dangerously low reserves of certain essential, rare-earth minerals had been inside the Union.

"We've been in touch with both Boeing and Northrop Grumman. They're both in the process of relocating to clandestine, underground factories at undisclosed locations in British Colombia after the loss of their manufacturing plants during the first day of the war. They're claiming a critical shortage of rhenium." Richards said.

"It's an essential mineral for engine components in both the older F-22 Raptors and the F-35 Lightnings, as well as in the next generation of fighters. Without replacement engines the air fleet will be completely grounded within several months, and that's barring enemy interaction." Stark added.

"Where can we get more? And how soon?" Harris asked.

"The small reserve we have is making its way to them now, but it's not expected to last. China is the main producer of raw rhenium ore, but it's safe to assume that the Chinese will be hoarding their supply. Africa may be the next best bet but maritime traffic is sketchy at best right now." Stark said. "From what I've heard the whole damn continent went up in genocidal intertribal warfare once the major African urban areas were razed by the aliens. It's anyone's guess what their mining capabilities are right now."

"If I have to send special forces to get a few hundred pounds out of the ruins of Lagos or Capetown by sailboat, I'll do it. What are our other material issues?"

"We've been running out of helium for years. We use it to pressurize rockets and some types of rocket fuel. We're extremely low on platinum and terbium, which can be used in the experimental fuel cells we're coming up with. Yttrium, neodymium, europium, and dysporsium are all used with our own laser technology, superconducters, microwave filters, magnets, sonar systems, radar material, and simple to advanced electronic devices. As with rhenium most of these are produced outside of the NAU, mostly by China, the Southern Union, Russia, Malaysia and India." Stark reported.

"We're getting slowly knocked back to the Stone Age. What are the estimates on enemy material reserves? This doesn't go any further than this room, but say the enemy only had to draw its supplies from our local solar system?" The President asked. He hoped that the Earth could outlast the castaway Empire in the race for raw materials.

"Aren't they part of a galaxy spanning empire?" Stark asked. The President knew that that information was on a need to know basis at the moment. He weighed telling the researchers about the aliens of Mars being castaways from their own Galactic Empire. In the end he stayed quiet, letting them draw their own conclusions.

"Regardless of their reach they should be doing quite well. We do know that for the past two years they've been undertaking large-scale mining operations in the asteroid belt. They haven't made any sort of mining effort on Titan yet but they've probably scouted it. We know from our own probes that it actually rains liquid methane there, a primary component of natural gas. Enough to form rivers and oceans. Titan's polar lakes alone contain more fuel than a hundred times Earth's own oil and gas reserves. The Imperials have already established an industrial complex on Mars, there is some kind of flying industrial complex in Jupiter's atmosphere, and now we've detected the presence of another possible terraforming effort being aimed at Venus." Richards reported.

"Venus?"

"Our telescopes have observed a large vessel in orbit around the second planet starting several weeks ago. Mass spectrometry analysis shows the presence of a higher concentration of ozone and the planet's atmosphere seems to be bleeding large amounts of carbon dioxide into space, It's presence is theorized to be the leading cause of that planet's super dense atmosphere." Richards said. "It may take them some years but they're most certainly changing it in much the same manner as they did with Mars."

"In less than a decade or so they could have a second world on our opposing flank. Right now they only seem to have this orbiting vessel and a possible, ultra-density ground station on the planet's surface. It bears watching." Stark added.

"Indeed. And what are we doing about the aliens on Earth?" Harris asked.

"The Weapon X project is almost complete up in Canada," a scientist in the back row reported. Harris grinned. The secret project always reminded him of the comic book it had been named after.

"Deployment?"

"It can't be moved or tested. We're hoping for five successful cycles of the project before enemy intervention."

"Let's hope so. We've sunk enough time and manpower into that project since the aliens arrived."

Another scientist raised her hand. "Mr. President, we have been studying the rare samples we've gathered of the alien armor they utilize on fighting vehicles. Analysis shows that we would have to retrofit the entire steel industry and discover a whole new family of advancements in manufacturing to come up with an equivalent."

The reports started coming at him as fast as the researchers could get them out.

"New advances in fusion reaction, from what we discovered in their 'H' fighter engines."

"We are working on a theory that the Empire works as a hive mind and the Fleet Admiral is their queen bee."

"No idea how they get such power from hand-held lasers but we're working on it."

"Their soldier's armor seems to be weak against their own lasers. They must be accustomed to only warring with societies that utilize projectile weapons."

"We need to scrap our air fleet and start working on a type of mechwarrior program right away. We have various examples from Japanese anime how this might work." Some of the ideas were worse than others.

"We think we've come up with a beam-tube proto. . ." the scientists were interrupted when the door to the office was thrown open.

Six Secret Service agents, their weapons drawn, burst into the room. They pushed the scientists to the side as they made their way through the small crowd to the Commander-in-Chief. "What is the meaning of this?" Harris demanded.

The lead agent responded with a rough. "Lindbergh, Sir!" The President gasped as the agents grabbed him and hustled him out of the room. The code they had used meant that something had happened to the First Family. They grabbed him by the jacket and pushed him out of the office.

Soldiers stood at their stations and watched as the Secret Service ushered the President out of the hanger. His armored car pulled up, its doors were thrown open and the President was shoved inside. The vehicle pulled out with a squealing of tires and the smell of burnt rubber.

"I want answers. Are they alive?" He yelled at the agents inside the vehicle with him.

"We believe so, Sir. This was taken by on-site cameras at the Missouri location." One of the agents handed him a laptop with the footage already pulled up.

A strange alien craft sat on the front lawn of a Missouri farmhouse. It resembled some sort of giant frying pan. Suddenly an alien that looked like a lizard carried his two boys out of the house and placed them inside the craft. They were both kicking their legs and squirming and looked unharmed. A moment later his wife was marched out of the house at gunpoint by an oddly armored soldier. He looked again at the alien and noticed that it appeared to be a female, and she was wearing armor that was vastly different from the samples he had seen the aliens using inside LA.

"Wiped out the entire detail. No survivors, so we have no first hand reports. Very professional job. FBI profilers suspect a trained assassin or some kind of military veteran turned bounty hunter."

The star ship in the video lifted off. The craft tilted forward before rocketing out of the camera's view. "Have any demands been made?" Harris felt the panic start to rise in his chest as he watched the abduction of his family. He knew he had to stay strong as a leader but at the moment he was having a hard time thinking through the scenarios playing over and over in his mind.

"We just learned about this ten minutes ago. These could be the enemy agents we suspected of tailing us across the Union. Though suspicions pointed to them doing it from orbit, we now know your pursuers will come to ground if need be. It would be a good idea to lay a trap."

"See to it." The President tried not to think about what his own agents had done to Phasma Yos, the daughter of the Emperor, while she had been in his custody. The thought of what the Imperials might do to his children in retribution was almost too much to bear.

The Earth had already given up so much. He wondered if this would be the sacrifice that broke him. No doubt the Emperor on Mars was wondering the same thing.

Behind him four bombers lifted off from the runway and headed northwest.

**Prefab Imperial Garrison Complex-_East-5, _Anaheim, Target East, Earth**

Captain Timus Roblin, known by his present company by his call sign of Bloodstripe, sipped on his bottle of Fizzyglug as he pretended to be impressed with the rest of his TIE Wing at the holoimager in front of them. _Mynock_ Flight was currently filling up several of the chairs in the Pilot Briefing room of the prefabricated garrison complex that sat on the southern edge of Target East. His veterans were doing their best to not look too bored.

The room was filled with several dozen other TIE pilots watching the recently captured holoimages of several air-to-air combat fights between TIE/In starfighters and what passed for airspeeders on this backrocket world.

The chairs in the room were borrowed spare ejector seats from the TIE maintenance bays of the garrison. Along one side of the briefing room sat an automatic caf dispenser and a table that was piled with everyone's buckets and flight gloves. Silhouettes of various Earth airspeeders covered the walls with their names taped under them. Roblin had seen in action with just about every one of the ones believed by Fleet Intelligence to be operating over the Lesser Continental Mass. The opposite wall was spattered with stranger looking models that came from places with odd names like Russia, China, India, or Japan.

His pilots in _Mynock_ had to know both sets in case they were transferred at a moment's notice to the operating theater across the local ocean. Roblin wondered when his boys would get a chance to study them, considering the intense patrol schedule they had been pulling over the past few weeks. He reminded himself that _Mynock_ had a rotation coming up in only an hour and stopped himself from gulping down the entire Fizzyglug. One of these days Old Man Kuat would invent a snubnose fighter with a refresher aboard, he hoped.

The other aviators in the room consisted of pilots from their sister bomber squadron, _Bantha_ Flight, as well as fighter pilots from _Dactillion_ and _Thranta_ Squadrons. At the moment _Thranta's_ commander was showing off several kills his flight had accumulated over the smoking ruins of Target San Diego the day before.

Roblin wasn't impressed. The _Thrantas_ had come in from over the ocean under heavy TIE/WAC jamming and jumped a small flight of chopter-airspeeder hybrids, called V-22 Ospreys, in the dark of night. It had been a womp-rat shoot, and a pretty one-sided one at that. Roblin reluctantly kept his mouth closed.

_Mynock_ didn't have to impress anyone with holoimages of their battles. Their record spoke for itself. They had been the tip of the lightsaber in the attack that had broken into Target East and had been in daily combat over enemy lines ever since. Every one of his pilots was an ace several times over and they had only been unfortunate enough to lose one fighter in combat. He repressed a momentary pang of guilt over the loss of his squadron mate Gungan, killed only a few weeks ago by an abo stealth airspeeder.

His thoughts went back to the holoimager as one of _Thranta's_ fighters lined up a slow target in its cannon sites. A quick flash of plasma bolts and the Earthean airspeeder blew itself apart in the night sky. The holocams mounted on the _Thranta_ TIE showed the squadron forming up back over the ocean at the end of the engagement. Roblin wanted to ask the captain of _Thranta_ flight if his pilots were trying to avoid the highly dangerous enemy frontlines that surrounded Target East by taking the safe way back home.

Instead Roblin bit his lip. He didn't need his pilots getting into brawls at the garrison's pub due to animosity between the two squadron's flight leaders. "Kriffing fine job of flying." he offered his fellow captain, without a hint of insincerity.

Across the room he caught the eye of his panelmate Striker, who lifted a disbelieving eyebrow at his statement.

"Thanks, it took a bit of maneuvering to achieve a dominant attack position on the abos. Only our skills allowed us to make it through that without a scratch." The _Thranta_ Captain said.

Bloodstripe knew the other captain was full of poodoo. They had jumped five blind airspeeders that were some of the slower models the abos used; trooper transports of some kind if he remembered correctly. He doubted most of the earthlings even knew the _Thrantas_ were in the neighborhood before they were blown from the sky.

Pub fights or not, it was time to remind _Thranta_ why _Mynock_ was the top squadron stationed in Target East. He was just about to tell the arrogant captain off when somebody suddenly yelled across the room.

"Attention on deck."

The room full of relaxed pilots suddenly shot to their feet. A loud scrape carried across the space as chairs were suddenly pushed backwards across the durasteel floors. A pilot from _Dactillion _Flight dropped his bottle of Photon Fizzle, which loudly clanged underneath the chairs in front of him.

Somebody cut the feed to the holoimager and its holographic TIE fighters vanished. The room was quickly cast into silence except for the steadily approaching thud of pilot boots from the back of the room. Out of the corner of his eye Bloodstripe watched as his old commander from the _Quill_, Lieutenant Commander Vertitas, strolled through the ranks of TIE pilots.

Vertitas led two ground-crewbeings that were pushing a repulsor-sled ahead of them. Roblin was able to make out several technical devices and what appeared to be some sort of primitive missile weapon resting atop the sled.

Vertitas reached the front of the briefing room and turned towards the gathered pilots. The two enlisted men placed the repulsor-sled next to the Lieutenant Commander. "As you were." Vertitas told the room and there was a bit of shuffling as the Imperial aviators retook their seats. The two ground crew retreated to the back of the room leaving Vertitas alone at the front.

Roblin caught his eye for a second but Vertitas ignored him. Roblin thought that was about right, considering the two had never gotten along, even when they were in the same squadron before Vertitas got promoted to FlightOps Director of the _Quill_ and Roblin took his former slot as the _Mynock_ Flight Leader.

"Men, I'm here to brief you on a new threat to our TIE wings" Vertitas opened the briefing.

Roblin leaned forward in his seat as he listened intently to his former commander's announcement.

"These components here have all been taken from remains of a particular weapon fired prematurely at our fighters behind Target East's planetary shield from Terran military positions and airspeeders. These remains have been gathered by scout trooper patrols operating near the edge of the shield and the no-beings-land that separates us from the American army."

_Thranta's_ Captain spoke up. "Sir, with all due respect, I doubt there's an abo weapon out there that could be a threat to a TIE. We're rolling over the natives every time they show their faces."

Roblin rolled his eyes at his fellow Flight Leader's arrogance. Ever since he had lost Gungan in combat with stealth airspeeders he knew how dangerous the enemy could be. Almost every night he awoke in a cold sweat in his bunk, terrified by a nightmare of the abo's massive usage of flak slugthrowers that would encase and rupture his snubnose fighter in his dreams.

"Thirty-two. That's the number of TIE craft that have been lost in the first month of combat operations over Target East alone. Thirty-two, with fifteen of your fellow pilots killed in action or missing behind enemy lines." Vertitas let the gravity of his words sink into the thick skulls of the gathered pilots. The _Thrantas_ especially were used to walking about with an undeserved air of invincibility around them.

Vertitas turned and indicated the gathered pieces of material on the repulser-sled. Roblin noted that most of the odd equipment appeared to have burn marks or other assorted battle damage. "These two devices were launched at our fighters in the past two days. This one slammed into our planetary shield and exploded after chasing a TIE/sa bomber." the high ranking officer pointed at the strewn about pieces of equipment. "This other one chased a TIE/In starfighter from _Jocorro_ Squadron up on the north side of Target East for three minutes before running out of propellant and crashing near our front lines. The pilot involved claims he was unable to shake the missile no matter how much he maneuvered."

Roblin looked around the room. The other pilots were riveted to the briefing. So far the skies above Target East had been indisputably theirs to do with as they wanted. One of _Dactillion_ pilots raised his hand. Vertitas noticed and gave the young pilot leave to speak. "How were they tracking the TIE?"

"The missile comes from an Earth weapon called a 'stinger'. These two variations come from a FIM-92D version designed to locate targets through infrared homing devices."

"Heat seekers?" someone laughed in the back of the room. Roblin wanted too as well. Heat seekers shouldn't be able to detect a TIE unless it was only a few meters away. The fighters were designed to fight in the cold void of space where any emission of heat by a snubnose craft in combat would be the equivalent of lighting a neon 'shoot me' sign on the back of your fighter.

"They were, until somebody tweaked them." Vertitas held up the missile that hadn't exploded and opened the casing on the weapon. "Our engineers have figured these pieces right here," Vertitas pointed at the nose of the missile, "are the missile's guidance system. The infrared detectors have been removed and replaced with small yet relatively powerful radiation detectors."

Murmurs filled the room. Roblin worriedly looked to Striker who just shrugged in his seat. TIE fighters were propelled by SFS P-s4 twin ion engines, and like all ion engines they were powered by internal fusion reactions that emitted mildly radioactive particles at nearly the speed of light. Somehow, probably through a lot of trial and error and the study of the remains of a few shot-down TIEs, the abos had come up with something that made all of the TIE pilots sit up and take notice.

"So far these are only field modifications. We have and will continue to suppress their factories and cities that make these weapons, so it could be a while before we see large amounts of this missile deployed with manufactured modifications."

_And they could already have thousands of them waiting for us in their frontlines_, Roblin thought.

"What are we to do if we are engaged by these 'stingers'?" another pilot asked.

"As you all know, standard practice has been to either attempt to outrun Terran missiles or head for orbit. The TIE/WACs haven't had any trouble jamming other types of anti-airspeeder missiles. Now orders are to dip behind the planetary shield whenever you find yourself faced with one of these things. Their specs show they have an atmospheric speed of several hundred more kilometers an hour than your TIE so don't fierfek around when you see one." Vertitas warned.

The Lieutenant Commander answered a few more questions, mostly about newer threats that had been appearing lately over the enemy's lines and where he thought all of the abo airspeeders had disappeared to lately, before trying to wrap up the briefing. "Any last questions?"

Roblin and another pilot both raised their hands at the same time. As Roblin knew he would, Vertitas called on the other pilot. Luckily for Roblin that other pilot was Tusken, the lead bombardier of _Bantha_ Squadron, and his inquiry matched Roblin's own. "Sir, how come the Earthlings haven't surrendered yet?"

A damn fine question, Roblin thought. Even the Seperatists of the Clone Wars quickly surrendered to the Empire as soon as it had shed the rotting corpse that had been the Old Republic. Since then standard practice was capitulation once the Star Destroyers of the Imperial Navy showed up in the neighborhood. Caamas, New Plympto, Ghorman, Naboo, M'haeli, Barab I, Renatasia, Kamino, Maridun, Dressel, Carratos all suffered Emperor Palpatine's wrath before resigning to defeat. Roblin could name a dozen more that gave up rather than face the firepower of the Old Empire. Yet this backrocket world called Earth continued to fight long after every being on Mars figured they should have thrown in the towel.

Vertitas visibly squirmed under glare of the unexpected question. "Fleet Command and the Bureau of Operations on Mars are currently looking into that. Theater Commander Seco has issued several general orders covering the expected capitulation of all Earth Forces."

"But what if they don't?" Tusken continued.

"Then you will do your duty as Imperial TIE pilots. That is all. Dismissed." Vertitas said.

"Attention on deck!" the pilots all shot to their feet again as the Lieutenant Commander exited out the rear of the briefing room. The two ground crewbeings hurried to the front again to collect their repulser-sled.

Bloodstripe relaxed as the superior officer left the room. He walked over to the table piled with helmets and gathered his bucket up. He caught Tusken's eye and gave him an understanding shrug. The bomber pilot hadn't asked anything that every pilot wasn't already thinking.

Roblin raised his voice over the increasing din of pilot chatter. "_Mynocks_ grab your gear. We've got patrol in twenty minutes." There were some grumbles amongst the chatter. Air Patrol from behind a nice safe planetary shield wasn't what anyone would call exciting.

Striker fell in alongside of him as he departed the pilot briefing room. The other eight pilots, including their newest rookie, Ensign Terek Porkins from Bestine IV, who had replaced Gungan and was going by the call sign of Belly Runner, fell into line behind them. The ten black, flight-suited males took a turbolift up to the TIE launching tubes on the eighth level of the garrison. The TIE hanger bays were a well-choreographed flurry of chaotic activity as ground crew and FlightOps personnel went about their duties. Several tractor beam retrieval units were hard at work landing TIE/sa bombers from _Traladon_ Squadron that were returning from a low orbit bombing run on the nearby Terran entrenchments.

A familiar rumbling noise and a whir of motion caused Bloodstripe to turn his eyes upward. Ten TIE-In starfighters were being pushed forward into the ready racks. "_Mynocks_ to your fighters." Roblin ordered.

The eight younger pilots took off for the loading ladders at a run, while armorers and machinists pulled tibanna and fuel lines away from the rows of ready snubnose fighters. "You worried about these new stingers?" Striker asked.

"I don't know. Just one more thing to worry about if we have to go over their lines again today."

"That flak of theirs sure has been getting thick since we kicked them out of here." Striker said.

"It's nothing but 'hate' being thrown at us." Roblin reached his own fighter's ladder, letting his panelman's unspoken words of caution hang in the air. "I'll see you up there."

"You better believe it, Boss."

Roblin climbed the ladder to the top where an insectile Brizzit ground crewbeing helped him into his cockpit. Indistinguishable from any other fighter he had ever flown, this particular TIE had long ago lost any sense of shine or new fighter smell. Some pilots left little marks or notches hidden away to identify fighters that were their favorite. To Roblin that was all superstitious nonsense. One TIE/In was the same as any other. The only thing that truly mattered was the man behind the flight toggles.

Roblin powered up his flight systems and ran through his ingrained pre-flight check before making comm contact with FlightOps. "TarEast FlightOp this is _Mynock_ Lead. Requesting clearance for takeoff. We have a patrol mission over the southern NBL."

"Mynock Lead this is TarEast FlightOp, copy that you have clearance for southern border patrol. Stay on friendly side of shield unless authorized. Have a good flight."

"Roger, roger, FlightOp." Roblin flicked his left eyelid at an icon in his HUD switching between comm channels. "_Mynock_, count off with ready status. QI2-1-1 ready."

"QI2-1-2 ready." Striker's familiar voice answered. The remaining pilots of his squadron quickly echoed their ready status.

"On my lead." He ordered as the loading racks pushed all ten fighters into launch positions in the deployment chutes. "Launch."

All ten TIEs of _Mynock_ Squadron raced down their launch tubes, shooting out of the top of their garrison as if they were in a combat situation. Bloodstripe led his flight of fighters to the south, away from the ring of six mountainous garrisons that made up the Target East Southern Complex. Below them several strange piles of debris and rubble from a knocked over castle and carnival rides marked the site as some type of earthling, rodent-themed amusement park that had existed before the Empire's arrival.

The fighters of _Mynock_ moved into a long line formation as they moved south. The landscape underneath them reminded Roblin of one of the nine Corellian hells his grandfather had told him about when he was a youngling.

Stretching across the Los Angeles Basin was a terrain of flattened and crushed edifices as far as the eye could see. Every building had been fought over as the American earthlings had retreated and the Imperial stormtroopers had pushed forward. Tall, blackened, skeletal palm trees stood above the wreckage, looking so fragile that they might topple with the slightest breeze and join the devastation that stretched out beneath them.

Bloodstripe could easily make out the four towering garrison complexes that ringed the city. Only a handful of abo buildings still stood, whether through luck or some quirk of fate. Imperial engineers hadn't knocked the rare, defiant structures down since they had conquered the city, but they had strongly discouraged any sort of rebuilding effort by the abo survivors who squatted amongst the rubble of their destroyed metropolis.

Not that those few survivors were entirely helpless. Behind the main lines a strange new tactic had begun. Across the conquered territory landspeeder bombs had detonated almost every other hour. Several nights ago one had gone off close enough to his garrison that it had shaken Roblin awake in his bunk. Standing orders were that no trooper was to leave a garrison base in less than platoon strength until the city had been completely emptied of abos or the Earth surrendered. How long that would be, Bloodstripe could only guess.

He glanced to the west where a bulky _Gizer_ L-6 freighter was on approach to the distant LZ-LAX. Bloodstripe wondered if he could make out the moment the transport passed through the planetary shield from this distance, then shrugged that it really wasn't important and turned his eyes back to his patrol zone. They relieved _Jocorro_ Flight somewhere high above Garden Grove.

Bloodstripe followed a plowed pathway through the sea of rubble below that had been cleared by Imperial engineers so that they could bring up supplies to the stormtroopers manning the line of entrenchments that had grown around the edge of the city. AT-STs and AT-RTs patrolled the cleared lane, insuring that it was only used by Imperial Martian traffic. A few tiny corpses in a ditch that ran along the road told of abos that had attempted to cross the roadway without Imperial permission.

In the neighborhoods below ram-shackled shelters and makeshift shelters sprouted through the rubble. More abos seemed to be out on the streets than the last time _Mynock_ flew patrol. They had sprung from the ground the moment the Imperial Army had passed them by as if they were hidden sand people from Tatooine. He wondered if more weren't sneaking into the city somehow. Though with the way the abos below looted and searched for any type of food he wondered why any being would want to try to infiltrate the devastation of Los Angeles.

He watched the abos scatter as a company of stormtroopers entered their neighborhood; a pair of AT-STs along for support. He noted how the boys in white below gave any wrecked landspeeder they came across a wide berth. As it was the things were just as likely to explode in your face as sit there. Roblin would have done the same thing if he was in those trooper's boots.

Bloodstripe led his flight to the east over a city named Orange on his T-s8 targeting computer. He looked down at the black and gray landscape and tried to figure out why the Terrans had named the city after the color.

He followed several pillars of smoke to a site where a platoon of stormtroopers was overseeing the work of dozens of docile abos. The near-humans were pulling bodies out of the rubble heaps and carrying them over to large piles of burning corpses. It was a horrible job but only one of a few the Martian Empire would pay the abos for. Those natives below would receive a small handout of food at the end of the grim job.

A big job it was, too. Nobody knew for sure but scuttlebutt around the barracks put the abo losses at a few million civilian and military deaths in defending Target East. Several times that amount had fled in every direction as the forces of the 1st Martian Empire landed dirtside, leaving only a small, starving percentage left underneath the protection of the Empire's planetary shield. To the north, east, and south green circles continued to appear across the face of that shield as incoming enemy artillery slugs continued to slam home.

Why those slugthrowers were allowed to continue to exist unchecked in the face of the Imperial Army was something Roblin could only guess at.

His AE-35 subspace receiver came to life. "_Mynock_ Flight Lead this is TarEast FlightOps. ComScan shows multiple bogies on westbound course to your sector."

"Roger, roger FlightOps. Any way you know their numbers or intention?"

"Fifty-plus snubnose airspeeders. They seem to be escorting some larger, slower craft with them."

"Fifty-plus. Copy that." Bloodstripe ignored the obvious bombers. The Empire had let the earthlings bomb the shield once or twice to show that the earthlings couldn't do anything to harm it. Now the days of teaching a lesson were over and _Mynock_ wouldn't dare let the primitive airspeeders anywhere near their foothold.

"Attack craft are coming in from Grid Marker Palm Springs. _Mynock_ you are authorized for a meet-and-greet. _Thranta_ Flight is launching now as back-up."

Bloodstripe checked his flight computer again. He didn't like it that it was the _Thrantas_ backing them up. The _Mynocks_ would meet the enemy attack somewhere over the town of Hemet if he had to guess. If _Thranta_ pushed it they might make it in time to see what real dogfighting was all about. "Roger, roger, FlightOps. _Mynock_ Lead out."

Roblin turned his starfighter to the east and pressed his foot pedals to the floor as he pushed his flight toggles forward. The other nine TIE/Ins under his command matched his movement and raced after him. Each of his pilots had monitored the comm call from FlightOps and knew what was expected of them. "_Mynock_, Wookiee-8 formation."

The ten fighters moved in a heartbeat into the attack formation their commander indicated. Roblin started the long climb for altitude as he approached the inner side of the Alderaanian SLD-26 planetary shield that protected Target East. His eyes scanned down to his flight controls to where his IFF transponder indicator light was on. If the Identity Friend/Foe transponder had a glitch his fighter would smash violently into the inner side of the shield. Several American airspeeders had already learned that lesson from the other side, the hard way.

A wave of static washed over him as he passed through the area where the particle shield should be. A node at the transmitter site depowered long enough to let _Mynock _pass through. He quickly checked his scanners to ensure that each of his fighters were still following him. They were.

His fighter clawed for altitude as he held his breath for his last few seconds of peace before the world blew up in front of him. The Terrans were ready for them. As soon as they passed through the shield the air over their trenches ten kilometers away erupted with thousands of bursting, black clouds of flak. Abo anti-airspeeder crews by the hundreds started putting up a thick curtain of slugs over their lines.

The only thing they could try to do was get above it. Every day that was getting much more difficult as the earthlings brought heavier and heavier slugthrowers into play. Some of them were even capable of firing into low-orbit. Bloodstripe wondered how long it would be before they had a credible anti-starship slugthrower. If they had had blaster technology when the Empire arrived Roblin was sure they'd be dueling with the Star Destroyers by now.

He held his breath tightly as he passed over the enemy lines at 20,000 meters. Flak clouds burst like little, puffy jawa babies all around his flight. He was sweating so much in his flight suit that he could smell his fear. Explosives suddenly erupted in his flight path. Roblin's stomach threatened to leap into his chest as his fighter dipped twenty meters through the patch of turbulence.

He pulled back on the toggles to bring himself back in line with the rest of the fighters. He randomly sped up and slowed down, turning the flight left and right through the sky to present a more difficult target to the enemy gunners below. He knew TIE/WACs in orbit above were jamming anything the near-humans could use to track his flight and as such the abos had to rely on their eyes alone. A tough task when the TIEs must appear as tiny gnats in sky from the ground.

"Bloodstripe, I've got missile launch. Multiple incoming!" Striker announced.

Roblin checked his S-c3.8 multi-range TAG. Sure enough eight projectiles were rocketing upwards through the heavy flak towards the _Mynocks_. "Copy that, Striker. I'll see if I can get us some help."

His eyelids flickered to change comm channels. "TIE/WAC _Besh_ this is _Mynock_ Lead requesting priority Red jamming assistance in Sector Hutt-Peth."

"Roger, roger, _Mynock_ Lead...um _Mynock_ there are no guidance systems being deployed in that sector." A technician high in orbit above them responded.

His eyes bore into the display on the TAG. The missiles were definitely chasing his flight. The TAG identified the projectiles a heartbeat later; MIM-72 Chaparrals. These weren't the 'stingers' they had just been briefed about, though they weren't far off. His TAG picked up the faintest trace of something behind each of the missiles as they closed with his squadron. "Fierfek! Cablers!"

Cablers had been detected shortly after the shield had gone up and were the main reason that the wings of TIE/sa bombers had been restricted to high altitude bombing instead of more direct ground attack missions on the enemy frontlines. A thin, micro-filament cable made of the cheap plastoid the abos produced, stretched back to a launch point where a trooper could guide the weapon through a primitive 2D cam in the nose of the projectile. They were impossible to jam unless you killed the trooper or miraculously severed the cable.

"_Mynocks_ take evasive action. Go for altitude." Bloodstripe said.

"Stick with your panelman." Striker added.

Bloodstripe put his TIE on its back as it shot straight up. His inertial dampers fought the g-forces his craft was pulling. _Mynock_ passed 30,000 meters. The slow atmospheric speed of his fighters prevented him from outrunning the weapons for long. He looked at his TAG: seven seconds till the missiles caught up.

"Turn about boys! Laze and blaze!" He shouted. Bloodstripe yanked the control toggles; flipping the fighter into a pinpoint 180 degree turn, straight back into the onrushing missiles. He didn't have time to check to see if the rest of the _Mynocks_ followed as his thumb jammed down on the firing stub.

Streams of green plasma blasted from his twin laser cannons back towards the guided Chaparrals. His blaster fire made contact with the lead projectile, turning it into a ball of blazing vapor in front of him. The explosion scattered the flight of missiles as their abo operators reacted to their leader's destruction. Some of them were thrown off course by the concussive power of the first blast. Striker and the rest of the _Mynocks_ were on his flank, blazing away. Their combined blaster fire ripped through three more of the weapons.

Both formations raced past each other. The faster missiles turned on the more agile TIEs in a heartbeat. Bloodstripe's head felt as if it was on a pivot as it swiveled back and forth in search of the smaller attackers.

"I've got one on my tail!" Wampa screamed across the squadron's comm.

Bloodstripe could see the endangered TIE/In streak across the sky below him. Wampa's panelman Zap dropped back to try to take a shot at the missile that raced behind the two of them. "Wampa head for that cloud cover below you." Bloodstripe said.

He watched as the pair of snubnose fighters disappeared into the edge of a line of scattered clouds. He held his breath as he watched the large cloud from above. Suddenly the pair of TIEs emerged from one side of the billowing cloud while their follower emerged from the opposite direction. No doubt its operator was confused about where his prey had disappeared to.

Suddenly the missile speedily made a banking turn and located the twin TIEs once again. Bloodstripe realized the operator must have switched to thermal or infrared sites. The cloud trick wouldn't work two times running.

With Striker at his side he dove on the missile; cannons blazing. Wampa and Zap zigged and zagged across the sky. The aggressive missile followed them. Whoever was guiding it must have wasted their life playing HoloVid games. He wondered if the abos had beings that did that with their lives.

Bloodstripe's thumb started to get sore from how many times he jabbed it onto the firing stub, but time after time the quick missile evaded his blasts. He hoped he might get lucky and at least sever the guidance wire, but the line was a thin as a hair and almost impossible to see with the naked eye.

He was finally lining up a kill shot on the weapon as it closed on Wampa when the missile suddenly jerked to one side. The Chaparral spun like a Zeltronian ReturnDisc as it lost control. Bloodstripe's T-s8 targeting computer showed the thin guidance wire falling away from the projectile. Evidently the weapon had reached the end of its line. The missile tumbled out of control back towards the planet below.

"Where're the rest of them?" Bloodstripe asked the squadron.

"All eight blasted down or run out of cable, Bloodstripe." Teardrop's voice came across the net.

"Good job, _Mynock_. Now let's haul jets to intercept those abo airspeeders."

Their maneuvers with the 'Cablers' had slowed them down some, enough for _Thranta_ Squadron to catch up to them. Roblin tried not to sneer at the more inexperienced squadron who in his mind were as green as goblin moss.

He checked his sensors for the freshly downloaded data from the orbiting TIE/WACs that had been keeping tabs on the oncoming enemy airspeeders. The Terrans were three minutes to the east of them and closing fast. It was a mixed contingent of old F-22 Raptors and newer F-35 Lightnings. They kept their faster atmospheric airspeeders between their lumbering bombers and the Imperial fighters.

Roblin had to make up his mind on how to engage the enemy. He could take the fight as high as he could, low-orbit if he had his way, where the thinning air would choke the engines and afterburners of the quicker Earth airspeeders, robbing them of their only advantage. Or he could take the fight to the long line of cloud cover the was filling the area, once again relying on the TIE's superior sensors and maneuvering along with jamming from the TIE/WACs to facilitate a slaughter. He paused as he wondered whether or not the abo airspeeder pilots had thermal sights like those Terrans who had guided the 'Cablers' a few minutes ago. He didn't have long to ponder as long range missiles started striking towards his flight.

Bloodstripe ignored the unguided, primitive air-to-air weapons as they streaked by his flight a kilometer to the south and several thousand meters too low. "_Thranta_ Lead this is _Mynock_ Lead. You take high and _Mynock's_ got low."

"Roger, roger, _Mynock_ Lead." The ten snubnose fighters of _Thranta_ clawed for altitude while Bloodstripe led his boys into a dive for the nearest bank of thunder clouds. Ahead of him he watched as the Earth airspeeders broke into two groups to engage the onrushing threat to their assault. The flight of four Earth bombers scrambled away to the north as they tried to avoid the Imperial fighters. Bloodstripe ignored them. So far bombers hadn't done more than scratch at the energy shield over Target East, but he had seen more than enough TIEs shot down by the abo airspeeders.

"_Thranta_ Lead the fighters are the threat. We can pick off the bombers on our return home."

Bloodstripe led the _Mynocks_ into the first towering bank of clouds. Rain beaded on his viewport as he switched to thermal sights in his HUD. His world went from blue and gray to one suddenly overcome by the color red. Heat signatures flared from twenty-eight airspeeders as they flew in formation just out of range of his cannons. Several millennia more advanced than anything they had come across on Earth, the thermal sights of the Empire detected not only the heat from the enemy afterburners and engine parts but also the body temperatures of the abo pilots.

Outnumbered almost three-to-one the _Mynocks _charged fearlessly across the lightening-filled sky. The earthling pilots reacted quickly, maintaining their formations just out of turbolaser range. Bloodstripe figured they must have been using thermal or infrared imaging similar to his own to counter his flight's maneuvers. A few missiles streaked across the sky between the two opposing forces as the atmospheric fighters kept the TIEs at bay.

"I don't think they want to play today." Striker said on his left flank.

"They're too fast in an atmosphere. Why'd they come up here if they didn't want to engage?"

"Beats me boss, these guys are as slippery as a greased Dug." Striker said as they watched a pair of F-35 Lightenings outrace Wampa and Zap as they tried to engage.

Roblin was getting sick of the game. "Fierfek this." with a flick of the eyelid he switched Freqs, "FlightOps this is _Mynock_ Lead requesting orbital support in Sector Vev Orenth 12. These abos aren't firing on all their thrusters."

A few seconds later the captain leading _Thranta_ Squadron above them made the same requests. Evidently the earthling airspeeders hadn't wanted to engage their sister squadron either. "This is TarEast FlightOps, _Mynock_ and _Thranta_ be advised the _Battle of Kabal_ is inbound on your position. _Cooha_ Wing will commence an orbital dive on enemy positions in five minutes."

Bloodstripe gripped his flight controls tighter. Five minutes could be a lifetime in air combat. If the earthlings didn't want to engage with their faster airspeeders than all _Mynock_ could do was look stupid until the ARC-170s dove on the enemy from out of the void.

He checked his targeting computer, which was being fed constant battlefield updates from TIE/WACs in orbit. The enemy fighters were slowly leading them east, away from their base in Target East. Four small icons dashed towards the planetary shields to their rear. The four bombers they had ignored. Bloodstripe checked the targeting data on each of the attackers. They were classified as old B-52H Stratofortresses and they were flying much too low to make a high-altitude bombing run on Target East's shield.

"_Mynock_ come about on a heading of 175 and make for the west." Bloodstripe ordered, checking his instruments to insure that each of his fighters came about.

"What's up, Boss?" Striker asked.

"Striker, anything look odd about those bombers we passed earlier?"

"Nothing really, as soon as they go for altitude the anti-airspeeder blasters ringing the city...wait those junk heaps are only flying five hundred meters off of the deck. What are they up to?"

"I don't know but I think we should find out. Punch it _Mynock_." Bloodstripe pressed down hard on his footpedals and pushed his flight controls forward as his snubnose fighter clawed for its top atmospheric speed. As soon as it did that the abo airspeeders turned on him from the rear, hitting their afterburners in an attempt to catch up with the Imperial fighters.

A primitive missile streaked by to the north. "_Thranta_ Lead enemy airspeeders are attempting to engage on our six. Request assistance."

"You got it." _Thranta's_ captain practically screamed across the comm. The _Thrantas_ dove on the new targets from above as the high altitude earthling fighters facing the _Thrantas_ dove to join the dogfight. _Thranta's_ ten fighters juked and turned across the sky as they fought the fifty airspeeders engaging them. Roblin hoped he didn't just sacrifice their sister squadron for nothing. His opinion on their false bravado from earlier was permanetely altered.

"_Mynocks_ stay on those bombers."

"_Mynock_ Lead this is FlightOps. We've analyzed their attack, Sir, and there is a danger."

"Roger, roger. We'll intercept them in three minutes."

"Copy that scrambling all response wings in Target East, but you'll be the only ones that will reach them before they're over the shield." the FlightOp technician reported.

Roblin wished he had the Force so he could will his fighter to go faster. He wanted to whack his helmet into his flight controls in stupidity. How could he have let the abos trick him with such an underhanded move? It reminded him of rebel tactics he had read about before the 'big jump' back in the Home Galaxy.

The four bombers appeared on the horizon as the TIEs left the thunderstorm and the enemy airspeeders behind them. Their engines were being pushed to their maximum output but even that couldn't hope to outrun the Imperial fighters. He could see the smoggy braze that settled over Target East and noticed the bombers were just about to their own frontlines.

"This is going to be close." He said, more to himself than the rest of the _Mynocks_ who were listening in.

He lined himself up for an attack run on the rear most bomber. The flak from the enemy lines suddenly ceased as the lead airspeeder in the single line of bombers crossed over the abo trenches below. Bloodstripe was flying so low he could pick out individual earthling troopers moving about behind the enemy lines. The boom of thousands of slugthrowers pierced his cockpit as the abos began blasting at the shield. Ahead of him green circles appeared from a single spot on the shield as thousands of heavy slugs impacted. His flight computer told him the four bombers were aimed directly at that same spot.

As he lined up his first blast on one of the engines a hatch opened underneath the nearest airspeeder's wing. A pair of beings dove out of the open door. In an instant the two figures were falling somewhere behind Roblin's TIE. He noticed that similar pairs had fallen from the other three bombers ahead of him once parachutes spouted from their backs.

"The crews are jumping ship!" Striker shouted.

"Blast those airspeeders out of the sky!" Roblin yelled.

Bloodstripe and Striker were the only two fighters in position. He pressed his thumb down on the firing stub and green plasma bolts ripped into the wing. The bombers were packed full of fuel and fire raced along the ailerons as the wing crumpled at the junction where it met the airspeeder's fuselage.

The airspeeder pitched forward as Roblin and his panelman swept overhead. An explosion like a hypermatter bunker going up erupted from the spot where the large airspeeder impacted no-being-land.

The concussion of the blast mushroomed upwards and buffeted his fighter, preventing him from getting an attack position on the third bomber. Seconds later the lead bomber smashed into the shield as anti-airspeeder units blasted ineffective bolts into it. The other two airspeeders bore in, their forward motion carrying them into their target as Imperial blaster fire tore into them.

Unseen by Roblin and the forces under the command of the Empire, each of the bombers had been carrying eight GBU-43/B MOAB bombs, the largest non-nuclear conventional bombs the North American Union had ever fielded. Every one of the bombs was encased in a thermobaric explosive sludge made up of fluoridated aluminum mixed with ethylene oxide that filled the entire fuselage of each of the stratofortresses. All those bombs were timed to explode at the same instant.

Which was now.

Roblin hadn't even ordered them to, but the ten fighters in _Mynock_ were scrambling in every direction over no-being-land. His own TIE was the closest to the impact zone and he was still traveling forward when the three massive explosions combined at the same point of the shield. The explosion was something straight out of the Clone Wars.

The blast wave rippled off of the shield and washed back towards the American lines, catching his small fighter in its powerful grasp. His fighter suddenly felt like it was caught in the jaws of a rancor as the beast tried to shake it apart.

Both of his panels crumpled before the port one was ripped free of his fighter. Every alarm in the craft went off or failed just as the plastoid viewport shattered. Roblin's head snapped back and smacked into the crash webbing as his lenses cracked and popped free from his helmet. His ears and nose bled from the impact as he fruitlessly fought to keep his doomed TIE airborne. The super-heated air from the explosion seared the flesh around his exposed eyes and would have roasted his lungs if it hadn't been for the life-support gear he wore as part of his flame-retardant flight suit

The invisible shield was approaching quickly and the fighter started a deathroll as it rocketed towards the Imperial lines. He fought the sudden g-force as his inertia dampers failed and choked out a gasp when he saw through his blurred vision that his IFF transponder was destroyed.

Bloodstripe knew that he was going to die. His crippled fighter was a heartbeat away from smashing into the shield.

He didn't realize it but he held his breath as he passed through the area where the shield should have been. Below him debris rained down on the stormtroopers manning the Imperial lines.

"By the Force, where's the kriffing shield." He barely was able to mutter. Flecks of blood spurted from his mouth and bubbled on his lips.

It took all of his strength to reach forward against the G-forces pushing down on him. His fist pushed the ejection controls. Explosives erupted beneath him, pinning him to his flight chair and propelled him through the hatch and into the grey haze of a smoke-filled sky.

Beneath him his TIE tumbled to its fiery death somewhere in the Riverside Patrol Sector. He felt his chair fall away as his repulsor belt kicked on. The device instantly slowed his fall. His body abruptly remembered to exhale for the first time since the explosion as the belt spun him face down towards the shattered neighborhoods below.

His whole body felt bruised and bloodied. He activated the emergency transponder on his chest with numb fingers. He guessed he was several hundred meters up and falling a hundred meters every few seconds. Figures were moving in the ruins beneath him. Slugthrower artillery impacts could be seen across the city as the Imperial artillery came awake and responded in kind to the sudden presence of incoming enemy slug-fire.

At four hundred meters something snapped past his head. A second later something bit him in the leg. He spun out of control and he looked down in a panic. Blood gushed from the outer part of his left leg. Somebody down there was trying to blast him with a slugthrower. No. Somebody down there _had_ blasted him with a kriffing slugthrower.

He glanced down again. He could see blaster fire on the edges of the neighborhood he was approaching. White and gray camouflaged beings moved on the fringes of his clouded vision. He couldn't detect any safe places to land in the debris field below. The ground was coming on too fast. He tried to maneuver his body to avoid landing on his injured leg as much as he could.

Wham.

He felt his right shoulder crack as he slammed into the remains of a duracrete structure and the immediate and overwhelming pain made him black out.

When he came to he heard slugthrowers and blasters exchanging fire somewhere nearby. Pain wracked his body. He was aware even without moving that he had several broken bones. His eyes throbbed in agony from the burns that surrounded them. He instinctively reached for the ELG-3A sidearm holstered on his belt and screamed out in anguish as his shattered hand refused to cooperate.

"Don't try it, asshole." a menacing warning came from his left.

Roblin turned his head towards an unmistakable earthling coming towards him in a crouching run through the rubble. The sandy-haired near-human was dressed in clothing that had obviously seen better days; it was torn and covered in filth in several spots. The primitive looked half-starved and his sunken eyes were full of rage. The enemy rebel pointed his slugthrower at Roblin's chest. Roblin was positive he was looking into the hate-filled, wild eyes of his own doom as two blasts rang out and time seemed to stand still.

Funny, Roblin thought as he waited for the slugs to impact, their slugthrowers sound just like our blasters. He hadn't expected that.

The approaching insurgent took two more steps before his eyes rolled back in his head and his legs gave out underneath him. The abo crumpled in a heap at Roblin's feet. Across the rubble pile several stormtroopers were rushing towards him. A Platoon Sergeant held his E-11 to his shoulder, keeping it pointed at the earthling's corpse.

"Over here." Roblin tried to shout and wave his uninjured arm at the friendly troops but the surges of pain shot through every inch of his battered body

"Medic!" the Platoon Seargeant yelled, then turned to one of his own men. "3105, go find Lieutenant Mahan and tell him we've secured the pilot." The stormtrooper rushed away to follow his sergeant's orders as a pair of medics were suddenly at Roblin's side.

"You're lucky to be alive, Sir." One of the medics said. "The slug missed your femoral artery so you probably won't bleed out or have to be fitted for a cybernetic. You're likely gonna spend at least a week in a bacta tank though. We need to get you stabilized right away."

Roblin let the panic flow from his body in relief. He nodded that he understood as pain shot through his body. One of the field medics injected him with a hypo-syringe full of something and he felt the effects of the painkiller immediately. Ah, he thought as the welcome wave of dullness washed over him, _symoxin._ He had been injured enough in the past to recognize that feeling right away

He tried to choke out a question through broken teeth and a blood-filled mouth. "The...the shield?"

The Platoon Sergeant had been watching from nearby. "It's back up. Kriffing Abo Scum. Knocked it out for half of minute, raised Hell all over Target East afterwards, too. Kriffing bad over there by where those airspeeders hit. Lots of casualties and damage, but it's back up again."

"Thank the Orig...Original Light." Roblin coughed out.

"I know Old Palps would hate to hear me say it, Sir, but I think the Force was really with us on this one. I didn't lose a single one of my boys to all that arty that came in on us, but we weren't in the line right under that stang airspeeder attack either. And the abos didn't light off one of their poodoo landspeeder bombs when we came to pick up your _shebs_, Sir."

Roblin nodded. The symoxin was having too much of an effect for him to continue to talk.

Was what the stormtrooper sergeant saying the truth? Was the Force really with them? If I was the Force I would hate this world and its sneaky abo scum, Roblin thought.

_May the Force be with us all. Nothing else is._ Roblin thought as he passed into the black while the medics continued to work on him.


	42. Jason 3

Tampico, State of Tamaulipas, Mexico, NAU, Earth

President Harris tried to push his own personal crisis to the back of his mind. He felt it was wrong to dwell on the abduction of his family over the deaths of hundreds of millions of his countrymen since the beginning of the Imperial invasion.

He knew they were alive. Ground-based telescopes had monitored the strange alien craft that had kidnapped his wife and two young boys all the way back to the city the Imperials had constructed on Mars. The most high-tech, digital surveillance equipment in the world had watched as the President's family was off-loaded and brought inside the large tower structure the Imperials had erected in the midst of their capital.

Then came a cryptic message broadcast by the Empire over what had been believed to be a secure NAU signal channel. His wife and boys were being held on Mars as political prisoners. Their ransom was his surrender. Harris had been married to his wife for just under three decades and their thoughts usually ran along the same lines. Because of this he knew that she would never forgive him for capitulating for her. But what about the twins?

The war that had robbed him of his family's security and well-being had also created some strange bed-fellows. Never in a million years did Harris think he'd be sharing a table with the man now sitting across from him. Hugo Rafael Chavez II was every inch the statesmen his father had been, except for his political leanings. The younger Chavez had tossed his father's communist beliefs in the trash heap of history as soon as the old man had kicked the bucket. He then transformed Venezuela into the industrial powerhouse she was today. He had united the southern democracies behind him and had declared a war on the North American Union that had cost half a million lives before it was over.

The world knew him by his nickname, 'El Presidente'. His very existence was enough to cause both of the previous NAU presidential administrations to only last one term apiece. El Presidente had been smuggled into the Mexican port city by diesel submarine only hours before.

"I am truly concerned about the implications of this vile abduction of your family, _mi amigo_. It goes to show just how despicable the Empire really is." The South American leader said. Chavez chewed on an unlit cigar.

The long conference table they occupied was lined along one side by several South American generals and admirals, and on the other by their opposing numbers in the North American Armed Forces. Eight years ago these men were doing their damnedest to kill each other.

"Thank you, Hugo. Your concern touches me. I hope your family is well and safe." Harris offered back.

"I don't know how safe we can be. The Empire is clearly hunting the two of us like dogs. My wife and children are well protected and in a safe location. But who knows after Missouri." Chavez said, referring to Jill Harris's safe house.

Harris didn't want to know where Chavez was hiding his own family. It didn't matter to the war effort in North America one bit. "Yes. Who knows? But back to the matter at hand, do we have an agreement?"

"_Si, si_. An alliance of the Americas. The loss of our Central American brothers has taught me that we must stand together or die alone. Already, plans to integrate our two unions' armed forces, is underway."

"The essential thing is production of military material. I am ready to commit all production in the NAU to expelling the Empire from our shores. Production in the USAN will be more focused on taking the fight off-world at a later date." Harris said.

_"Bueno._ Transportation is still limited to small craft in the Caribbean, which hinders the transfer of my soldiers to your shores. We have been lucky in that the Guiana Space Center has been largely ignored by the Imperials. A mistake that I hope will bite them in the ass some day."

Harris knew that he had a platoon of aides that wanted to get together with the South Americans and start tackling their constitutions. Both congresses were eager to merge the Unions as rapidly as possible in order to aid the war effort. As much as Harris was behind that plan he knew today was a day for strategy not infighting and political debate.

"As do I. The NSA and your own ABIN have prepared a brief on the real-time situation around the world. Shall we?" Harris motioned towards the HD plasma screens at the front of the table.

_"Si,_ I am most eager to start hitting the space gringos back for what they've done to _La Madre Tierra_." Chavez agreed.

Harris felt odd that he had found an equal in El Presidente. Their arrangement called for him to be the Commander-in-chief of all ground forces north of Panama and in the Caribbean. Chavez would maintain operational control of only South America and he would slowly start shipping his ground forces to Harris. Chavez, however, would have theoretical command of the forces sent into space to take on the Empire. As suicidal as that sounded it was a challenge the Latino leader was happy to take on. Harris feared facing him in the election that would surely be held after the war for leadership of the super-sized Union they were creating.

"You may proceed, Colonels." Harris said.

Two officers, one in the camouflaged BDUs of the NAU army and the other sporting the jungle pattern of the South American Armed Forces, stepped to the front of the room. They were both armed to the teeth with laser pointers and flash drives.

The NAU Colonel hit a key on his laptop which brought up the feed from a Global Hawk III drone that was patrolling several hundred miles to the south of them.

"My God, that looks like the seventh level of hell down there." A NAU Admiral said from Harris's side of the table.

'Down there' meant the nation of Guatemala, which for hundreds of years had been a seat of Mayan civilization, but which was now an eerie wasteland of oozing, molten glass dotted with the stubs of a few scattered ruins, both modern and ancient. To Harris it looked like nothing so much as a vast expanse of black garden mulch littered with tens of millions of corpses being picked over by every vulture in the Americas. The few NAU recon teams that had ventured in described the buzzing of flies as being unbearably loud, something akin to a band saw. There were a handful of survivors, one-in-ten-million lottery winners of a sort. They had all been found to be, without exception, insane. The population of Central America had been reduced to a few jungle dwellers deep in the wilds of Nicaragua and some fishermen sailing for ports in the north and south.

As awful as the image was, it was by no means the most horrifying vista arrayed in front of them.

On other, smaller screens, more intimate and, in a way, more dreadful images played out. In the Hawaiian islands the survivors were eating each other, literally. Thousands of burned and wounded, yet still living survivors of the Empire's slave round ups across the Pacific were still being dumped there after the Empire had razed every scrap of food on the Pacific state. No nation in the world had a ship that could carry foodstuffs and make it within a thousand miles of Hawaii before the Empire sunk it from orbit. With no reliable supplies of fuel, power, or even water in many areas, and with almost no functioning transport system, the few scattered surviving farming enclaves in the islands had suffered almost total collapse of their productivity. What little edible stores the smaller settlements retained now needed to be defended against the hordes that fell upon them. They didn't last long.

In stunned silence they watched the village and town-level fratricides and cannibalism. It was heinous and terrible, disturbing on a cellular level, and it was repeated over and over again until Harris no longer possessed any moral capacity to react to the horror. After a while it was all just pixels.

Harris cleared his throat. "Ok, I've seen enough." He said softly.

_"Si,_ that is too much. What is going on elsewhere around the world?" asked Chavez. During the viewing Harris thought he had noticed a little green tint to the South American strong man's cheeks.

The NAU Colonel switched HD TVs to one that showed military units moving through a desert terrain of some sort. "Firstly CENTCOM. As of two weeks ago the Iranian military has pushed within artillery range of Basra. The Saudi and Kuwaiti divisions have helped hold them so far, but there were heavy casualties amongst the defending Iraqi units. So far the Iranians haven't started mining the Strait of Hormuz but it is expected. But what good would that do them? There's not an oil tanker in the world that's at sea at the moment. The Empire has actually relieved tensions by bombarding Tehran for a second time three days ago. Senior Iranian leadership appears to have been hit in the engagement.

In Israel, the IDF continues to blunt Egyptian and Syrian attacks in the Golan Heights and in the Sinai. But after the loss of their nuclear arsenals and the pounding Tel Aviv and Jerusalem took it's only a matter of time before we see an end to the Jewish state."

"_A la chingada_," Chavez exclaimed. "The Empire destroyed the Dome, the Sepulcher, and the Wall in one minute. What could they still be fighting over? There's nothing left."

"There's also no one left to stop them. The two largest world super powers are fighting invaders from space in their back yards. Nobody has got time to police up all the little fights that have been boiling under the surface for so long." Harris said, "Continue, Colonels, if you would."

The South American officer spoke. "India has halted the transfer of her ground and air assets into the PRC. They state that they believe the Chinese Army has held the Empire to her gains in and around Shanghai, much as you have done around LA."

"We've only held them because they stopped and set up that force field of theirs. They could be building up for another attack as we speak." The NAU Colonel told his counterpart.

"I am just reporting what our sources in the Indian Army tell me. Besides, they're more concerned with Pakistan at the moment. The probability that one or the other will attempt a preemptive strike with missiles and bombers is approaching certainty. Their conventional forces have already clashed four times in the past month. All cooperation with the procurator Pakistani government outside of the Islamabad ruins over the Chinese situation has effectively ceased. Both sides have carried out proxy terror attacks approaching mass casualty levels. Drone surveillance cover indicates that each has stepped up the readiness of the remains of their ballistic missile forces, minus of course their nuclear arsenals, which the Empire had already removed from the playing field."

"_Jesus Christo_, have they learned nothing? What are the estimations of India's losses from the Imperial bombardment?" Chavez asked.

"Estimates for India range between thirty-five and forty percent of their population. As you know they were the world's largest country in terms of population before the war started, with numbers ranging from 1.8 to 1.9 billion people." The NAU Colonel answered. "We don't have the numbers on Pakistan's losses."

"And yet still they want to start another war over old grievances when we have an enemy that has hurt them worse than a hundred Pakistans ever could." Harris was disgusted by his fellow humans' stupidity. He almost thanked God that the Empire had blown up the world's nuclear weapon supplies before their invasion had begun. Almost. "What is the status on getting our people out of the subcontinent?"

"Sixty percent, or ninety-three thousand Americans give or take. As you know we were evacuating from most of China when this happened. Most of our civilians had been moved south to Australia before the invasion began. Which takes us to PACOM."

"There are two serious flashpoints within PACOM," The South American began, "The first is the ongoing drive across the island nations of the eastern and central Pacific. After abandoning Hawaii the aliens have quickly moved south and west. They are using force appropriate units to occupy almost every single island and atoll they come across. They seem to deploy their forces for several hours at each location. Using sophisticated lifesign-scanners they empty each place of its occupants and then move on. These prisoners are then taken to the Moon, where they have enlarged the former NAU Eagle Base into a much larger screening facility. Prisoners deemed fit then have surgery performed on their necks for some unknown reason, though we speculate it's to implant a tracking device or microchip of some kind, and then are transported to Mars. The ones that do not pass the Imperial requirements, usually for a variety of medical reasons from what we've determined, are dumped back onto Hawaii. This was originally done by landing shuttles, but now the Empire has reportedly taken to just hovering a large transport several meters above the ground and pushing everyone out a mechanized loading hatch. This is to avoid being overrun by survivors on the island." The Colonel pointed to the TV screen that was paused on the horrible images of Hawaii.

"Currently the furthest they have advanced is Saipan in the north, Palua in the west and Papua New Guinea in the south. They are currently engaged with Indonesian and Malaysian forces in the Banda Sea area, specifically in the Maluka Islands, which should be depopulated in the next day or so by the Imperials. Australia and New Zealand air forces have both taken a beating trying to stem the tide going south and have retreated to their respective shores. Japan and the Philippines have both been heavily bombarded and reconned by the Empire, so it's anyone's guess as to where they will go next."

"If you had to guess, Colonel?" Chavez asked his man.

"I think they'll continue their drive into Indonesia, or perhaps south and take New Zealand. It's pretty much isolated now, El Presidente."

"Which brings us to the other flashpoint; China." Harris said.

The NAU officer took over the briefing, "Our reading of the current situation in the PRC is just bleak. The economy hasn't imploded, it's just ceased to be. Thousands of state-run enterprises were being propped just to keep the rural poor housed and fed. Now hundreds of millions of people have no income and, in what remains of the cities, no means of supporting themselves even at a subsistence level. China was a net food importer at the time the Imperials first showed up in our system. It cannot feed itself now. The PLA, which is grabbing up every able body it can, throwing a rifle in their hands, and marching them towards Shanghai, is now fully engaged along the length of China's borders holding down a possible revolt. A civil war could erupt at any moment. The only thing keeping them together is the presence of the Imperial Army at Shanghai. The government has imposed a media blackout and expelled all but a handful of foreign journalists, and their movements are tightly controlled. Most of our in-country assets, as well as some intel we're getting from our allies in the Russian intelligence agencies, are convinced that a schism has opened up between the PLA and the Communist party leadership. At 0340 this morning the FSN's Fuzhou station was reporting that major combat had broken out across the strait in Taiwan between elements of the People's Armed Police and at least two divisions of Army Group Nine, including armored and artillery units."

"It looks to me like Command and Control of the Chinese state is failing or has already failed." Harris said. He leaned forward and pointed at the powerpoint reports the officers had projected onto the briefing room's walls. "This infighting is about reestablishing that control, but it won't be simple or easy. I'd sure as hell love to give them a hand or at least knock some sense into them, but at the end of the day they're still our biggest ally in the fight against this Emperor Yos and his starfleet."

"That brings us to Africa, then." The USAN officer suggested. There were groans around the table. The less said about Africa the better. The Empire had pounded its largest cities and her largest mining operations hard, but Africa had never been a powerhouse of industry and the Imperials had left her alone for the better part of a month now. The Africans had taken that reprieve to reinstate tribal warfare on a scale unseen since the days of colonialism. Nigeria invaded Benin and Cameroon, The Congolese Civil War reerupted, Ethiopia invaded Somalia, the Kenyan air force bombed Tanzania, Mali and Burkina Faso forces were driving into Niger, genocide in Rwanda, Sierra Leone, and Uganda, South Africa was repelling invasions from the Namibians, Botswanans, Zimbabweans, and the Mozambiques, and famine was everywhere. A lot of new blood was being spilled over the old.

"I don't want to get into the activities of petty criminals and warlords. What is happening in Europe?" Chavez said. A look of relief passed over the faces in the room. Africa was a mess that would have to wait till larger problems were settled.

"That sounds reasonable." Harris agreed. Europe would always be the greater ally to the Americas.

"The situation within EUCOM is fluid," said the NAU officer, who had a penchant for understatement. "The British government continues to enforce a maritime exclusion zone and has secretly begun work to seal its end of the Channel Tunnel." This was a surprise to Harris but he said nothing and let the officer continue, "The state of emergency remains in place throughout Britain but we are informed that it will be lifted in Northern Ireland as of 0900 tomorrow. Our best information at hand is that the British government will ignore the ultimatum from ourselves and the EU to release all of the so-called emergency detainees and is in fact planning to deport significant numbers of them."

A murmur rippled around the table.

"Do you have any better information than just 'significant numbers', Colonels," asked Harris. "Are they talking about flying out a couple of crazy mullahs or are we looking at mass deportations?"

"My information is that the forced relocations will probably take place on a greater rather than a lesser scale, Mr. President. Much greater. They will probably involve a significant drain on their security forces. It will be a controversial policy."

Sitting next to Harris, Chavez grunted and leaned forward. "Ha. You know how to sugarcoat a shit-sandwich, don't you, Colonel. It will be a bloodbath. They're talking about deporting hundreds of thousands of second- and third generation citizens. It's a pogrom, pure and simple. But," he sighed, "It's only our problem if it affects us operationally. I can see their point. It's either this or starve or worse, end up like France."

"This little ethnic-cleansing program the Brits are doing, what's your reading on that? Is it likely to bring down the remains of their government?" Harris asked. He thought the two colonels looked uncomfortable being asked to read the storm clouds of British politics.

"The policy is supported by a clear majority of the British electorate, a white majority." Said the USAN officer. "But the significant minority who oppose it can be expected to do so by all means at their disposal. There will be bloodshed. From our viewpoint the biggest concern is if the British government enters into separate negotiations with the Empire. We all know the Empire's demands. They want a slave labor force for whatever they're building out on Mars. The United Kingdom cannot hit back at the aliens here or in China due to the great distance of the landing sites from their home islands. They are sick to death of being bombarded from outer space. It is conceivable that they are planning to turn over their ethnic minority population for a cease-fire agreement with the Empire."

The NAU Colonel interupted, "As El Presidente mentioned, it's either that or end up like France."

Harris and Chavez both grimaced.

The intelligence officer returned to his notes and brought up a slide show of images culled from the European news media. "The food riots in Greece, Romania, Italy, and Spain have largely petered out over the last two weeks. However, during the same time frame, fighting in France has intensified. Elements of the state are in open conflict with each other, while large-scale, street-level clashes that began as food and race riots have developed into open, disorganized tribal warfare. The French populace is largely divided along ethnic lines, but tensions have been exacerbated by the involvement of some criminal syndicates in Marseilles and Lyons, and by the arrival of outside agitators from throughout the EU. Besides Poland and Russia there's not a single nation in Europe that is still considering sending any portion of its armed forces to aide either China or the NAU in their fight against the Empire. Most official border crossings have been closed in France but that means nothing. The borders aren't simply porous, they largely do not exist and haven't for decades."

The southern officer brought up another series of slides and video footage before continuing from where the NAU officer left off. "We have a strong indication of government-level assistance for some of this cross-border movement, especially of skinhead gangs from Germany's largest surviving city Dresden and also Prague within the Czech Republic. The numbers involved are nontrivial. Your own ECHELON assets on the continent tracked five bus convoys of neo-nazis from all over Eastern Europe all the way to Lyons. In total they numbered more than six thousand strong."

"Good Lord. Why aren't the Europeans putting those thugs in uniforms and shipping them east? Or at the very least giving them a shovel and having them clear rubble or something?" Harris asked.

The southern Colonel had an answer for him, "Racial tensions have been building in Europe since the end of WW2. A lot of these elements are seeing France as the key battle ground for a battle-to-the-death sort of confrontation with a minority that has largely migrated out of North Africa and the Middle East over the last century. The world's policemen; the NAU, China, and to a smaller extent, we in the USAN are currently occupied with more immediate, extraterrestrial concerns. Nobody is going to step in and put an end to this and they know it."

"You mentioned that these were government-sanctioned movements. Which governments?" Chavez asked.

"It is inaccurate to speak of a unitary state authority in France right now, but one bureau of the GIS, the General Information Service has been in close and constant contact with the BND, the German government's foreign intelligence service, and the Russian FSB, which maintains extensive networks in the former Warsaw block. The GIS has taken on the responsibility for state security ever since the French president was killed in the bombardment of Paris."

"I don't see how that all hangs together?" Harris said.

The NAU colonel hit a control which switched the TV footage to an upload from the BBC, showing a huge, violent confrontation between thousands of protestors in Lyons. Hundreds of black-clad French riot police stood by as a wave of shaven-headed thugs appeared in a coordinated assault on a mass of dark-skinned rioters. Armed with clubs, edged weapons, and even some firearms they cut a swath through their densely packed and less well-armed opponents.

"The death toll from that encounter was over two hundred," said the North American officer. "It didn't rate as more than a scroll across the bottom of the screen on most news networks due to much larger riots the next day and the ongoing bombardments and warfare around the world. The CRS, the French riot police, did not only not intervene, but actually facilitated the attack and later the withdrawal of the neo-nazi street fighters."

Footage of French police assisting skinheads flashed across the screen. In some they were calmly chatting with each other or giving directions to the neo-nazis. The skinheads appeared to take a great deal of advice from the officers.

"At no point in any of the clashes has the CRS decisively intervened to stop any major incidents of violence, except on those occasions where ultranationalist forces looked to be in trouble. Our ECHELON sources are starting to hint that the surviving French government, with the blessing of the majority of Europe's governing bodies, may be about to initiate a second holocaust. Either that, or a pogrom aimed at turning over its minority population to the Empire in exchange for a cease-fire as we believe the British may have already secretly begun."

Chavez and Harris exchanged a quick, wordless glance. "Thank you, Colonels. This is fascinating, even a little horrifying, but we need to move on. You have a quick run-down of the Russian situation?" Chavez asked.

The Colonels nodded and the NAU officer continued. "Russian military forces remain on the highest level of alert. They have moved three armies, the 5th, 29th, and the 36th into China to support the PLA near Shanghai. They have also deployed and reoccupied Chechnya and Georgia in the past week and we have evidence of troop movement heading towards the borders of Armenia and Azerbaijan. The Turks are getting nervous about it, too, but after the destruction of Istanbul and the Bosporus there's not much they can do about it. So far the Russians have done a great job of playing all sides. They continue to send military aid to China, any intelligence they come across to us, and support to the Europeans for the racial slaughter that is about to break out across the old world."

"Very disheartening, do you two have any good news to report?" Harris asked.

The two intelligence officers looked at each other and shrugged. Evidently, they did not.

"Why are our friends around the world so dense? I don't see how, with a clear enemy above us, so many of the great peoples of the Earth can turn on each other like this. Every man who takes up arms against his brother is a traitor to our planet." Chavez exclaimed.

Harris was reminded of his college days for a moment, "Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart. The center cannot hold."

Chavez stared at him in confusion.

"Yeats. Whom I believe Emperor Yos must have studied. He has landed his military's ground forces in China and here. Why? Why not Africa or Australia or Iran or Norway? No, he chose the two most powerful Unions in the world and cleverly paralyzed them. Then he decapitated the remainder of the world's leaders. The rabble is now in charge and there's no one to lead it."

He paused and took a deep breath. "Well, not anymore. Not on my watch. I know the lawyers and politicians will argue for years that this is unconstitutional but I'd like to offer you an arrangement, Hugo."

Chavez looked like he was about to swallow his cigar.

"I'm inviting all twelve of the nations of the southern union to join the NAU in a greater government. Not an American Union either, but a Union of the Earth. My state department will send out invitations to all nations. It will be stronger than the old United Nations and what the League of Nations should have been. It will be a unified military, a unified government, and a unified planet. I offer you the position of my first Vice-President and would like to welcome you as my new countryman." Harris offered his hand.

Chavez looked at it for a moment as he considered his options. The South American could see the tide of history coming in and saw an opportunity to ride the crest of it. "_Si, mi amigo, no, mi Presidente_."

"Good. Our first order of business then, gentlemen, is to give the whole world back its center. And then we're going to hold."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Tarkin's Fist II~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Chryse Planitia, 1st Martian Empire, Imperial Mars, Sol System**

Jason Bogan had always assumed that Mars would be warmer. It must have been seeing all the red terrain in the movies; just seeing that color had made him think of heat.

Now he clinched his red utility suit closer around his frame as a chilly blast of air cut right through his clothing. The guards back at the camp had told him that it was springtime here on Mars. Bogan had trouble believing it at the moment. "I thought you guys were terraforming this place warmer?" he asked the fishy alien that walked beside him.

"Better much than two years past. Much as like Mygeeto or Rhen Var at time of first Martian landing." Frip responded.

"Moff Culter's been promising better temperatures for two years as well, but that's all we've received so far is promises." Brakatak the big Gran said from Jason's other side.

The three of them headed west along the banks of a waterway named the Yos River. It had taken them three days of hiking to reach the meandering, wide river that his new friends had informed him ran straight through to the heart of their capitol city somewhere ahead of them.

It had been six days in total since they had escaped from the horrors of Concentration Camp 1138. Towering pillars of smoke could still be seen behind them, marking the graves of tens of thousands of his fellow earthlings. He wished he could have done more than just run away.

"So this Moff Culter, he's the Governor in charge of changing this world?" Jason asked, attempting to steer his own thoughts away from the massacre behind them. Frip and Brakatak had been giving him lessons about the Empire so that he wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb whenever they arrived at this Culter City place they were taking him to. The way the two aliens went on about it they made it sound like Las Vegas, New York, Shangri La, Paris and Amsterdam all rolled into one.

"More or less."Brakatak explained, "Emperor Yos has him working on expanding the Empire as well. Culter's going to be terraforming dozens of planets over the next twenty to fifty standard years from what I hear. Already got us a colony on Earth 2."

"Earth 2?" Jason was puzzled. He couldn't remember ever hearing of a second Earth.

"Oh yeah, got a bunch of methane breathers altering the place from a colony ship in orbit. Guards back at the camp were talking about it before the riot. It's some world closer to Sol."

"Venus." an alluring new voice answered Jason's question from up ahead. Silhouetted against the violet-orange sky of the coming evening came the most beautiful alien girl Jason had ever laid eyes on, gracefully crossing over a muddy hill to join her friends. Actually, Ashla was the only alien girl he had ever laid eyes upon. "It was on the HoloNews before I left to rescue you nerfherders."

Jason knew that Ashla Ti didn't like him. She avoided him whenever she could, which just made those moments when she couldn't ignore him more interesting. Maybe it was the fact that she could also kill him at the drop of a hat that also made her so fascinating.

Ashla had been scouting ahead along the river for any sign of pursuit from the camp. Jason hoped there wouldn't be any. He remembered that huge berm of decapitated corpses they had had to crawl over to escape and unconsciously rubbed the scar on the back of his own neck where Ashla had ripped a tiny detonator device from the top of his spine. Because of that 'slave chip' the camp guards would have assumed that no one could have escaped. At least that was what the four of them hoped.

As the red and white Togruta approached Jason noticed she carried a crude spear with several odd looking fish impaled upon it. For six days they had eaten what she had caught and for six days Jason hadn't been able to identify a single strange animal he had consumed.

"Daggerts. We're eating good tonight." Brakatak exclaimed. Jason couldn't tell one Earth fish from another, let alone alien ones.

"Salty they is, tasty though." Frip said in his own little Frip-like way.

"Ok, I'll trust you guys. My stomach feels like it's about to eat itself. Sounds like it would go great with some tortilla chips and guacamole, though."

The three aliens stared at him with blank faces for a moment before Brakatak spoke. "See, there you go again, using funny Earth words. You're going to stick out like a Hutt at an Ewok party if you talk like that in Culter City." Brakatak and Frip had been trying to teach him the mysterious ways of the Empire and a whole brain-full of new slang and sayings. For instance, they spoke a language called Galactic Standard Basic, which at first sounded a lot like English, but it was so mixed with colloquialisms from millions of other worlds that in the end it all just sounded like a bunch of gibberish.

"God, I hope it isn't guacamole that tips the police off."

"No refer to deity. Beings are few that do that on Mars. Say instead 'By the Force', 'By the Emperor' or maybe 'Mars bars!'" Frip laughed. The Ishi Tib really was only trying to help.

"You three go gather firewood while I descale and prepare the fish." Ashla ordered. Jason noticed how the other two always defered to her wishes without complaint.

Brakatak nodded for the three of them then turned and led them into the brush that lined the river. Most of the trees there were nothing more than saplings, having been seeded a little over a year ago by Moff Culter's terraformer teams. Frip identified them as a mix of Manax, Veshok, fruit-baring Kuvara, and silver-leafed Galek trees. Jason made a mental note never to use the words oak or elm around people on Mars.

The trees were all young, and as such had only a few dry or dead branches to retrieve. The rain that had fallen a few days before didn't help any. Eventually both Jason and Frip managed to gather several armfuls of oddly colored branches while Brakatak manhandled a pair of large, dry logs out of the brush.

Without warning, the Gran's three eyestalks went wide. He dropped the logs and leaped at Jason and Frip, shoving them down into the red mud so that they were hidden in the sprawling field of waist high brush.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked, frustrated that he had dropped his load of sticks and scraped his hands on the ground when he impacted.

"Shhhhh." Brakatak whispered. Frip's head swiveled back in forth before he noticed the danger. Then the Ishi Tib hugged the ground and started rubbing red mud onto his yellow utility suit for better concealment.

Jason pushed himself back up to all fours. Brakatak sent him a look that begged him to stay put. Jason looked carefully through the branches of a large, orange H'Kak bush and spotted a nearby dinosaur.

Well, maybe it wasn't exactly a dinosaur but it was a large green lizard about the size of mini-van. The creature was obliviously grazing off the shrubs along the riverbank about a hundred yards from where Jason was hiding. On the creature's back sat a rider dressed as one of those robot-soldiers that had captured him in Honolulu. The soldier carried a gun strapped across his back and carried a long, lance-like weapon. He wasn't alone either; five other riders and their mounts were close by the first. Half of the white armored soldiers were on foot, either talking or adjusting items on their lizards' large saddles. One of them dismounted a strode down to the riverbank. He adjusted his armor and began to take a leak. A few of the other spoke in electronically-altered voices, but most kept a keen eye out. They had large ruck sacks on that made them look top heavy and somewhat inhuman as their heads swept back and forth.

"Dewback troopers. Lances much nasty." Frip whispered.

"Will those things eat us?" Jason asked. The toothy creatures looked like sharks with legs from his position.

"No, most friendly dewbacks are. Riders not much so."

"I wonder what they're doing out here. We've got to be at least a two hundred kilometers away from that camp. We're only a few more days walk to the capital." Brakatak wondered softly. The way Jason's feet hurt he believed the three-eyed alien.

"Should we try to jump one of them?" Jason asked, even though he hadn't been in a fight since middle school. His heart skipped a beat when he thought he saw one of the riders peer in their direction, but just as casually the alien soldier looked somewhere else a moment later.

"Armed better, fed better, trained better, more of them they are than us. We stay and hide." Frip answered.

"Maybe one of us should go and get Ashla?" Jason said. He had watched the amazing style of combat the alien girl had had used to fight her way out of the camp. As far as he was concerned she could take on an army of Bruce Lees and Jackie Chans all by herself.

"And what good would I do?" The Togruta's voice asked quietly from behind them. Jason's head whipped around. Ashla was crouched down in the underbrush, her red and white pigmentation perfect camouflage for Mars. "If we attacked them it would only bring more troopers. We wait. I sense they haven't spotted us."

She was right. Fifteen minutes later the patrol remounted the dewbacks and rode out onto the plains of the Chryse Planatia. The green dewbacks soon disappeared amongst the rows of new colorful crops that were planted within the countless agricombines they had been hiking past for the last few days.

"Let's eat." Brakatak said as he stood upright again. The others followed his lead before gathering up their firewood again.

"How did you know we were in trouble?" Jason asked.

"I felt it in the Force." The girl turned away and walked back the way she had come. Jason felt as if her response held some kind of hidden truth that he just hadn't deciphered yet.

"Well that doesn't answer anything." The earthling mumbled under his breath.

The fish did prove to be salty and Jason was sure that chips and guacamole would have improved the aftertaste, and then maybe some fajitas and Coronas could complete the meal while he was wishing for things millions of miles away. But the fish did at least serve its purpose and fill his belly.

The four fugitives huddled for warmth around the small campfire as the sun went down and the plains of Mars grew dark. The only thing they had to keep themselves warm was the gear they had been issued back at that evil camp. A stocking cap, utility suit, boots and a pair of gloves. Even Ashla wore her boots during the chilly nights, though during the day she was more comfortable going barefoot. Brakatak had explained that it was a Togruta thing. They liked to feel connected to the ground, especially during hunts.

"So what are some Gran things?" he asked the big guy.

"Gran things, you mean our quirks? I guess every species got one or two."

"Gran go spacey with no more Gran around. Brakatak isn't playing with full sabacc deck anymore." The little Ishi Tib laughed at his own joke.

"That may be. Once we're cut off from the rest of the herd we go a little loony, but I've got my herd. Ashla and Frip here have been with me for just about two years, ever since we were all miners out in the Phasma Belt. We've got a few more friends you'll meet once we make it back to the city. There's Rana, she's an old spacer Duro, and Erw and Raf are two of the best mechanics I've ever come across, and of course Ashlei and Keatly." The three aliens looked downtrodden as Brakatak mentioned their friends. From what Brakatak had explained on their hike, he and Frip hadn't seen the other members of the herd in months.

"Keatly will be the one to talk to when we reunite with them. She's one of the best slicers I've ever come across. Wish I had known her in my slave days. She'll be able to whip you up a brand new identity that should check out with the Culter City Guard." Brakatak said.

"If he can keep out of sight long enough, I suggest we get him back to Earth as soon as possible." Ashla didn't bother to look at Jason as she spoke.

The red extraterrestrial sitting across from him in between Frip and Brakatak had the darkest eyes he had ever seen. It was almost as if the pupil pushed out all the white from her eyes. When she spoke he caught glimpses of fangs hidden behind her luscious lips. She had strange tentacles growing out of her head. Striped blue and white, her montrals raised a foot above her head while her lekku hung to just below her waist. He had no idea how old she was, having no experience with alien girls before being captured by the Empire, but Frip had told him she was in her early twenties just like him. Frip had also told Jason that Ashla had been on the run from Jedi-hunters since she was a youngling, an experience that had aged her mind and her soul well beyond her youthful appearing body.

Jason tried not to think about her body, especially when they were all close like this, and especially if he wasn't sure if the girl he was thinking about could read his mind with that mysterious Force of hers. She didn't seem to have a trace of body fat anywhere on her and though lithe and athletic she had an hourglass figure. How, after getting shot down by dozens of beautiful girls in high school and college, did he travel millions of miles across the solar system just to find another woman that was out of his league?

"So you guys can get me back home?"

"We've got a ship, a kriffing fast one too. If we were back in the Home Galaxy I bet she could make a run for setting a speed record on the Kessel Run." Brakatak bragged.

"Twelve parsec at best possibility." Frip added.

Jason had no idea what the 'Kessel Run' was and was confused because he thought a parsec was a measure of distance, not speed or time. Another thing to add to his growing list of things he didn't understand about this alien society that had captured him. "You think you'll have any trouble getting through this fleet of yours that's stationed around Earth?"

"Well you see. . . um. . . We're not really smugglers yet per say, and as much as we'd rather take you back as soon as we get home we'd..."

"No, we can't do it right now." Ashla interrupted Brakatak's stumbling excuse. "There are four sector fleets surrounding your planet at the moment. Not even the best smugglers would attempt something like that." She seemed disappointed that she wouldn't be able to get rid of him anytime soon.

"Booster Terrik, or Jorj Car'das could manage it. The Corellians always make the best smugglers." Brakatak argued as Jason tried to take it all in.

"Perhaps, but we don't have anyone like that in the 1st Martian Empire, do we?" The girl with the beautiful red skin argued.

"Not that I know of."

"Then I'm sorry, Jason Bogan, but you may have to extend your stay with us a little longer." Ashla said. By her tone she sounded sorrier for herself than him.

"That's alright, as soon as we get back into the city we're going to take the _Agen's Light_ out into the Phasma belt and that bigger asteroid belt on the edge of the system that we've heard about. We can always use a spare hand and besides, that mudball you're from isn't going to be much to look at once the fleet gets done with her." Brakatak offered.

Jason didn't know what to make of that. He'd wanted to see the stars and interact with alien species ever since he was a little kid and who spent hours watching reruns of the old StarFleet TV show. On the other hand, he had seen firsthand the horrific treatment his fellow earthlings had undergone while in Imperial captivity. The Imperials had squashed them like bugs when they had risen up in the camps. God and Ashla's mysterious Force only knew how they had managed to escape. If he wanted to help his fellow Earthlings against the Empire then the reasonable place to do it would be while defending Earth. Wouldn't it?

"Will it piss off the Emperor?" Jason asked, hating the man who had unleashed war upon his home world.

"Piracy always does, kid. If you're worried about helping out your beings, well then you might get lucky and we'll draw off one of those Star Destroyers on siege duty around your planet." Brakatak offered. "With all the credits to be made out in the Phasma Belt I doubt we'll be the first or only outfit doing some honest pirate work out there."

"Once hypermatter on market like in Old Empire. We hit alternate systems with new-spawned colonies. Leave behind law and Mars. Be rich beings." Frip said.

Jason looked to the alien girl to see what she thought of the idea. She sat silently before shrugging as if to suggest it was as good an idea as any. Brakatak and Frip had told him that the Jedi were peacekeepers and bringers of justice. Jason wondered, not for the first time since their escape, why she hadn't helped the rest of his people back in the camp, and why she seemed so cold towards him. But when he looked at her in the light of their small campfire his heart made up his mind for him. "If I can't get back to Earth then I might as well come along with you guys. I don't know. It could be fun."

Brakatak grinned and slapped him on the back. "We'll make a pirate scum out of you yet, kid."

"And piracy and smuggling are honored professions here?"

"Amongst some of the most respected. You can always trust a pirate, not like one of those Moffs."

"Just so long as we don't call ourselves the Pirates of the Caribbean." Jason watched each of their faces as his joke fell flat. He still had a long way to go before he felt at home with these aliens. "Um...so how much longer before we reach this Culter City of yours?"

Ashla pointed to the southeast where a bright glow lit the horizon. A pair of stars had stayed fixed over their destination for the past few days as if they were modern day Stars of Bethlehem guiding them to the new-born messiah. "Two days."

"We should try to get new clothes before we get there. The Culter City Guard will recognize these as prisoner uniforms." Brakatak said, tugging at the front of his yellow OverSeer's utility overalls.

"We'll see if we can find some friendly farmers on one of the agricombines we pass tomorrow. See if I can persuade them to trade or if we're lucky they'll have a comlink and we'll call Rana for an extract." the Togruta always seemed to have more to say to the Gran and Ishi Tib. Jason wondered what it was she had against earthlings, or was it just him.

"Get sleep we should." Frip suggested. They were all exhausted from their long journey and so no one argued. Brakatak threw more firewood onto the flames before the four of them settled into sleepy silence, punctuated by the gurgling noises of the Yos River as it flowed past.

Jason didn't fall asleep right away and sensed that Frip, who was lying next to him, was still awake. Brakatak, of course, had started to snore like a buzzsaw as soon as his head hit the ground. He glanced across the fire to Ashla, who seemed to be meditating rather than sleeping. He certainly wasn't about to interrupt her, so he turned instead to Frip and asked, "Hey Frip, what's up with the stars? Are they moons?"

When the Ishi Tib eyed him as if Jason were stupid. Jason felt silly for asking and motioned towards the two stars in the southeast. He knew they were too small to be the local moons of Phobus and Deimos, which he had glimpsed during his first night in the camp.

Frip chuckled, "That no moons. Driveyards. Big ship-making center. Always in orbit over Culter City. Other star is actually Star Destroyer. If Emperor Yos is on planet then it his, the _Quill_. Brakatak friend and I meet small Princess on that ship when we be slaves." the Ishi Tib's voice took on a tone of reverence when mentioning the large UFO's name. ""Biggest, baddest starship to come on 'big jump' with all beings from Home Galaxy. She got running Lights on, that why she look like star. Now Frip sleep." The fishy alien turned over on his side and quickly started a snore all his own.

Jason stared at the two lights in the sky. In his imagination he pictured the ship yards from his favorite TV show StarFleet and wondered how similar the two might be. Then he looked at the smaller light in the sky, the _Quill_. He had seen firsthand what one of those warships could do to a city, and now there was something even bigger and badder? He hoped that the _Quill _stayed parked where it was and didn't decide to join the bombardment on Earth. If only there was some way the Earth could strike back. He thought of the starship from the TV show. "The _Enterprise_ could take her, if only she were real."

Jason didn't remember falling asleep but he woke with a start after Brakatak nudged him with the toe of his boot. The Sun had barely risen in the east as morning sunlight crept across the fields of Mars. On the other bank of the river a herd of elephant-sized animals Frip had called 'Banthas' grazed on purple scrub grass that grew scattered across the unsettled red plains to their northwest.

Frip splashed away as he soaked his scales in the wide river. Ashla still seemed to be in her seated meditation and Jason wondered if she had slept like that. Brakatak kicked mud over the smoldering ashes of their campfire as Frip dried off and dressed once more in his yellow uniform. The day promised to be pleasant without a cloud in sight.

Breakfast was a mix of fruits named, according to Frip, forrolow berries and blumfruit, that they picked fresh from the vine of the first agricombine they came across.

Jason had noticed that most of the crops the Martians were growing seemed to be sprouting in abundance. A few fields grew crops that looked more familiar to him, corn, soybean, strawberries, but most of those appeared ill tended and the plants looked scraggly.

"Too much of that wierd potassium." Brakatak remarked as they passed one such field. "Our crops have never encountered it, so they love the stuff. Odd thing is they don't seem to soak it up like your crops do. The seeds we captured from you earthlings are used to it, I guess. Having trouble with Mars's seasons, too, but the government has to grow them to feed to the Earth prisoners every day."

As far as the plants were concerned Jason wasn't a farmer so he wouldn't know why the earth crops weren't doing well. He did know that the Earth was full of potassium and crops did well enough there. Strangely, Ashla seemed to make it a point to lead the group around each of the agricombines filled with crops from Earth when she usually could cut a straight path across alien harvests. At the moment the Togruta was scouting their path about a quarter mile ahead of the three slower fugitives.

To the far north Jason could make out a heavy transport coming out of orbit as it approached the smoke columns that still marked the location of the camp they had fled. His shoulders sagged because he knew what that ship must be carrying.

Jason wanted to think of something else beside the burning hate that was growing in his belly, "So can you tell me what this Force thing Ashla believes in is all about?" Jason asked his two companions.

"For starters it no being a belief." Frip answered. "It is power. Make you really good or really bad."

"Jedi refer to the 'light side' and the 'dark side', but really, these are only words and the Force is beyond words. It is not evil, just as it isn't good-it's simply what it is." Brakatak tried to explain

"Well, that told me just about nothing. Sounds like a bunch of hokey religious stuff and ancient weapons. You'd think all you would need is a good gun at your side?" Jason remembered the street gangs that ruled neighborhoods of Boston when he was growing up. A priest with a glowing sword would have made little difference.

"Ashla can tell you more. She was raised as a youngling and a padawan in the Jedi Temple of Coruscant before the purge. You should talk to her." Brakatak nudged Jason with his arm.

"I don't think she really wants to talk to me." Jason stared hard at the ground and tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other for the millionth time while ignoring the already growing ache in his lower limbs. It was going to be a long day.

"Well, you'll never know until you try. Besides, we're tired of your smelly, googly-eyed, near-human hide so why don't you go pester Ashla about it and if you don't me and Frip here will throw you in the first Sarlac pit we come across." Brakatak and Frip laughed. Jason had no idea what that meant but the big Gran gave him an encouraging shove and Jason nervously started to jog to catch up with the stunning Togruta. He soon left the two grinning aliens far behind.

"Ashla! Hey! Wait up!" Jason yelled at the figure ahead. For ease of movement she had cut slits down the sides of her yellow pants that showed ample leg and had her top tied around her waist so that she only wore what appeared to be a black sports bra of some alien design. For a split second he wondered if the red Togruta could get sunburnt.

"Hello Ashla. I thought you could use some company." The look on her face, as she quickly bared a subtle fang, seemed to indicate otherwise, he realized as he struggled to catch his breath from his run.

"Greetings, Jason Bogan. Are you sure you wouldn't feel more comfortable with Brakatak and Frip? They still have much to teach you about the ways of the Empire." Ashla's voice tried to hide irritation at his presence. She seemed to pick up her pace as he came up alongside her. He matched her step for step and hoped she would soon realize that she was stuck with him and slow down a bit.

"Brakatak says I should join you for a while. That maybe you could tell me a little of the Force."

"You beings from Earth are strangers to the Force?" She slowed down and looked him out of the corner of her eye. "It's no wonder after how unnatural it feels around you earthlings." she seemed to mumble under her breath.

"I've never heard of it before I came to Mars. From the awesome things I saw you do during our escape and from what Brakatak's told me it seems like some kind of magic. But then Frip explained that you're part of some kind of religious order of warrior monks. So I have no idea what to make of it all."

"All younglings in the Home Galaxy know of the Force. It touches very few, but most know of its existence. The Force is what gives a Jedi their power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together. The Force is directed by the lives of all throughout the galaxy. It is created by life itself, and while life exists it can never fade. It is guided by the minds of all those who came before, and all those who might come again. And so in that regard there is a type of intelligence behind the Force. A huge, ponderous intelligence that can guide even the smallest of feet, if we but listen."

"So is it like some kind of life force that gives you superpowers and tells you what to do?" Jason tried to relate her to some of the comic book characters he had read about as a kid. She certainly was built like some of them had been drawn.

"Some Jedi have been known to receive Force Visions or Force Sense that allowed them a prophetic view of what was to come. For example, the Force allows me to sense when beings are around, such as those dewback riders yesterday, or when an attack is coming from an otherwise unseen direction."

"How about super strength or the ability to fly?"

"My muscles are no stronger than yours. Some Jedi can fly, but only because they come from a species that already has that ability. When focused the Force allows me to jump higher and further than a normal being, but that is as close as I come to flying."

Jason sensed she was being humble. Brakatak and Frip were in awe of her, as if she was some kind of angel from heaven. "I bet that thing comes in handy in a fight?" Jason pointed to her laser-sword tucked into her belt.

"It is not the way of the Jedi to seek violence. The lightsaber is a tool meant for defense and justice. It takes a lifetime of training to master one."

"It's still a damn cool toy." Jason realized his mistake when she sneered at him. A quick glimpse of a fang was enough for him to change the subject. "So are the Jedi a religion?"

"Some may call us that. We are practitioners and followers of the lightside of the Force. We live our life by the Jedi Code and strive to follow the directives of our Jedi Council as well as the calling of the Force. Before the dark times we were centralized in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant."

"Is that where you grew up?"

"For most of my life I was a youngling at the temple. I was brought there at the age of two from my home world of Shili by a distant clan mate of mine; Master Shaak Ti. She gave me over to training under the tutelage of Grand Master Yoda and I found a home with my friends in the youngling Bear Clan. During the closing days of the Clone Wars..."

"Clone Wars?"

"At another time, perhaps, Brakatak can tell you about those. But it was during that time that I was chosen, not assigned but chosen, as a padawan learner of Master Agen Kolar. He started my real training at the temple and we would have headed out for the Outer Rim Sieges if my Master and the whole Jedi Order hadn't been betrayed by a Sith lord..."

"Sith Lord? Sounds evil?" He actually thought they sounded like Romulans but was too shy to say so. One of the quickest ways to get a girl to stop talking to him on Earth had always been to bring up StarFleet Academy.

"They are. They are the followers of the darkside of the Force. This Sith lord was none other than the Chancellor of the Republic. At his command thousands of Jedi were murdered by our own troopers. Many of those same clonetroopers reside here on Mars, so you must understand my reluctance to reveal myself."

"I think I know what you mean. Those same troopers are murdering my people on Earth right now. This stupid red uniform marks me as a prisoner still." Jason knew full well what happens to the only character that wears red on a planet full of aliens. "So, do the Sith use the Force in the same way as the Jedi?"

"The Force flows through them just as it flows through me, yet they do not use the Force in the same manner as a Jedi. The light side of the Force only utilizes it through feelings of compassion, selflessness, self-knowledge and enlightenment, while the dark side of the Force is an evil element that corrupts the Force through hatred, fear, anger, aggression, jealousy, and malevolence."

"Sounds like some of Earth's politicians may be Sith then." Jason tried hard to associate the strange new Force with things he was more familiar with.

"So the Sith have made it here as well?" Ashla's voice turned hard and surprised. She reached for one of the laserswords attached to her belt.

"No, no I was only joking. I have never heard of the Sith, or Jedi, or even the Force before I met you. But do you think any of these Sith came with you aboard your Fleet?"

"If they did, then they are hidden well for I have not felt another Force user since our arrival, but anything is possible. Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels it finds the darkness has always got there first and is waiting for it." Ashla sighed

"You called me Sith when we first...um...met." the heat from her lightsaber on his throat was still fresh in his memory. "Do you think I might be a Sith or a Jedi?"

"I called you that because of the way you felt in the Force. The Force feels odd and slippery around you, almost as if it is being strangled. I sensed this about all of your beings back in the camp, but now I can feel that it is there. It is faint but it's there. Has anyone on your world ever done things that weren't in the 'normal earthling' realm of possibility?"

"What do you mean? Like in our past?"

"Yes. Was there ever a time when someone was considered perhaps magical or miraculous. Some of the powers of the Force can be mistaken for common parlor tricks." The Togruta raised her hand out in front of them. Ahead of them several large rocks suddenly rose from the ground. Jason stopped dead in his tracks as he watched the red stones spin around each other as if they were in orbit. One by one they launched towards the river where each of them skipped across the water to land with a thud on the far bank. "It is common on primitive worlds for these powers to be mistaken for something else."

"That was amazing, and the Force allowed you to do that?" Ashla nodded. "I don't know of anyone that could do that. Well, there've always been magicians but those were just tricks. We had a guy named Merlin like a thousand years ago, but I'm not sure if he was real or a fairy tale. Also we had a guy named Houdini who could escape from any trap. Then there was a Rasputin who was supposed to be a court magician in Russia, but I don't really remember anything about him except that he was really hard to kill." Jason hadn't talked to the beautiful red and white girl this much since he had first set eyes on her and was enjoying every second of it. He was eager to please her and keep the conversation flowing.

"Jedi and Sith usually are."

"Oh, and Jesus." Jason was faintly aware that Mohammed and Buddha supposedly performed miracles too, but he wasn't familiar with them. "Jesus Christ performed miracles, and preached about kindness and love. He lived about two thousand years ago. Could he have been a Jedi?"

"I don't know? What kind of miracles did he perform?"

"Um...he could walk on water and raise the dead. He could turn water into wine. . ." Jason tried to remember his Sunday school lessons from when he was a child, ". . . And he fed thousands with only a few fish and some loaves of bread."

"Those do not seem like any Force powers I am aware of. The Sith would probably try to raise the dead if they could. Perhaps none of the beings from your world are able to access the Force. While I've heard that the Yinchorri and the Dashades were highly immune to Force powers, I've never known a species that has never had anyone touch the Force." The way she bore her fangs spoke volumes about how appalled she was at the idea.

"Maybe the Force doesn't like us very much? You said it yourself our Force 'aura', or whatever you want to call it, feels strangled and slippery."

"Aye. If I could figure out why and counteract it, your species could have some of the best or worse Jedi in the history of the Order."

"Why's that?"

"The Force has a way of balancing itself and like Nature it abhors a vacuum. There are beings ahead that can help us." Ashla stated flatly. They had been rounding a bend in the riverbank and approaching a small rise. The Togruta was shorter than him and he couldn't figure out how she had seen someone before he did.

His face must have shown his confusion because she quickly added, "It is the Force. I feel them." She said, as if he should have already known. "We will talk more of this later." Jason was just happy she wanted to talk to him at all.

They crested the top of the small ridge. Along the bank was situated a farm, or agricombine as they were known around here. Several figures could be seen working in the fields. Jason immediately threw himself to the ground, accustomed to days of hiding from stormtrooper patrols and work parties from the camp.

Ashla clicked her tongue at him in annoyance. "Stand up. They're not going to harm you."

Jason slowly got to his feet. He noticed the workers ahead weren't wearing the red uniforms that would have marked them as Earthlings. Earthling prisoners certainly would have had their own guard force escorting them on their forced agricultural work. Instead the farmers wore a mix of colorful, leather dungarees and coveralls.

Ashla turned and waited for Brakatak and Frip to catch up before leading Jason towards the farm workers. As they got closer Jason noticed that the workers were all the same alien species, and that they were all big birds.

"Hello!" The tallest of the bird-men shouted as they came closer. It raised its wing and gave them a friendly wave. The other aliens in the field stopped working and studied the approaching new-comers. Several of them jumped down from a large, floating Crop Harvester.

"Oh my God...No, I mean, by the Force! They're frickin', talking, giant bird farmers." Jason exclaimed barely remembering to use the slang he had been learning from his new friends.

"Don't be rude. They're Calibops." Ashla warned. "Perhaps I should do all the talking." She raised her own arm and shouted a greeting back. Brakatak and Frip came up from behind them at a jog.

"You already told him we should do all the talking?" Brakatak asked Ashla as he pointed towards Jason. Ashla nodded. Jason felt like he was a toddler being scolded by his parents. He understood he had a tendency to put his foot in his mouth every time he uttered something, but he didn't have to like it.

"You folks seem like you're a little far from home. My name is Ponc Kumas and this is my agricombine. How can I help you?" The rest of the workers gathered around Ponc to get a look at the newcomers. Jason noticed that each of them seemed to be a smaller version of Ponc himself and he assumed they must be the bird-man's family.

"Hello friend. My name's Brakatak. This here is Frip and Ashla, and the ugly near-human over there is Jason." The big Gran offered his hand to Ponc for a friendly handshake. "Any chance we could grab a bite to eat?"

"Brakatak." Ashla scolded her friend before facing Ponc, "We're with the Mars Flora and Fauna Service. Our speeder malfunctioned this morning several kilometers from here while we were out on a wildlife survey for Moff Culter. The malfunction also affected our comm gear. Is there any way you could help us out?"

"By the Original Light, seems like you guys have had a busy morning. We have a comlink back at the house. Sorry, but we don't have anything fancy like a HoloImager." Ponc said.

"That's more than fine. We can call for a pick up from Culter City. Do you know how far we are from the capital?" Ashla asked. Ponc's eyes narrowed. Jason understood why. If they had crashed a few kilometers away they should have a better idea how far they were out from this 'Culter City' they were heading towards.

"Our NavComp in our landspeeder was down too." Jason blurted out. His three friend's eyes went wide. He wasn't sure if they were more surprised that he came up with a plausible excuse or that he had actually said it in Home Galaxy terms.

"That's quite a mess then. You're about sixty-five kilometers from the capital. We got the land grant for this property last year and we've made the trip to the city a few times. Never on foot though, probably would have taken you another four days." Several of Ponc's family bobbed their heads as they agreed with their father's estimate.

"Why don't you come in and make your comm. My mate has some Apple-Slug stew cooking for our lunch. You are welcome to join us." Ponc waved towards the house.

"Thank you, wonderful that is." Frip said.

Ponc turned and led the entire group back towards their settlements. The house seemed to be made of red terracotta bricks, and when Jason got closer he noticed the small building sat on the edge of a large pit that was filled with several large rooms cut into its sides. A bird-woman waved up at them as they approached the entrance to the home.

Jason grabbed Brakatak's arm and whispered in a low voice, "Did he really say 'Apple-Slug Stew?"

"Yum, yes he did. My mouth is watering at the thought."

"My mouth is threatening to do something completely different." Jason said.

The Calibop farm family led them downstairs into what must have passed for the living room of their home. A 3D hologram projected from a machine along the far wall. The images were of the strange script and numbering system that Jason had witnessed the Imperials using back in the concentration camp. If I'm going to fit in I'm going to have to learn how to read again, he sighed.

Ponc moved to the image, "Hmm... that's strange aurodium is taking a dive, but at least Bantha Bellies are up. Got to stay on top of the market even when we're way out here." The big bird-man flipped a switch on the device and the strange script switched to a 2D image of Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. The smaller Calibops all rushed forward and seated themselves around the alien projector.

"Bugs Bunny?" Jason exclaimed.

Ponc's eyes narrowed as he studied Jason's reaction. "You know of this HoloComedy? Fleet HoloNet has only released these few cartoons and some Earth sports a short while ago. I'm surprised a being of your age is familiar with them. My younglings love them."

"Um...yes. I...um have a youngling of my own. He loves them, especially that Sponge Bob one." Jason lied through his teeth. Ashla sent him daggers with her eyes, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut.

"I haven't heard of him. The younglings know more about them than I do. Though that Daffy Duck one does look like a cousin of mine that we lost in the slave camps on Despayre."

"You slaved on Despayre before the 'big jump'? So did Frip and I." Brakatak slapped the Calibop on his shoulder. "Rough duty that was. Maybe we knew some of the same beings?" Brakatak and Frip steered the bird-like alien away from Jason and Ashla.

"The comlink is in the kitchen. Help yourself." Ponc called back over his shoulder as he lead the big Gran and little Ishi Tib to some couches in an adjoining room. Within seconds loud laughter filled the home as Brakatak started regaling the Calibop with some of his funnier tales.

Jason wanted to listen to some of the stories he hadn't heard yet. He had practically become a sponge as soon as he had landed on Mars, soaking up as much information as he could about this new society in which he was immersed. Instead Ashla grabbed his arm and tugged him after her.

The Togruta had no problem finding the kitchen. Ponc's wife, who introduced herself as Dresac, was busy making lunch for everyone and directed Ashla to the comlink. The small device looked like a tube-shaped cell phone and Jason wondered if it worked on the same principles as the ones back on Earth. This one must have been much more powerful as it didn't seem to be affected at all by the proximity of the alien Fleet. His own cell phone back on Earth had been turned into a paperweight by all the Imperial jamming that had coincided with the aliens' arrival in his solar system.

Ashla thanked the female Calibop and quickly made the call to her mysterious friends back in Culter City. Shrieks and female yelling could be heard from the other side of the comlink as Ashla tried to explain their situation. Ponc's wife told Ashla their exact location, which the red beauty quickly relayed to her friends. Jason's feet rejoiced inside his boots at the thought that his long march was finally over.

Ponc's wife handed him a cool glass of what appeared to be blue milk. His face must have showed his confusion because Ashla glared at him to shut up and drink it. Jason had no idea what kind of animal produced 'blue milk' but put the glass to his lips anyways. The cold milk tasted a bit sweet, but otherwise wasn't that far off from milk from Earth."

"Thank you that hit the spot. Do you folks pasteurize your own milk out here?" he asked.

"Pasteurize?" The Calibop snorted. Jason thought he had put his foot in his mouth again. Of course an alien society wouldn't have heard of Louis Pasteur's work in making milk safe to drink on Earth. "You're funny. Of course we get all our milk from our nerfs in their pasture to the south. We don't have the proper barn for a dairy yet." The woman explained.

Ashla ended her call and put the comlink back on a nearby counter. "Our ride will be here in an hour." She purposely interrupted Jason's next statement, effectively keeping him from making a fool of himself.

"Then you must stay and have lunch with us. Besides the stew I can whip up some Shawda Club sandwiches."

"That sounds astral." Ashla accepted. Jason could feel his stomach growling at the thought of a sandwich. If only he knew what a 'Shawda' was.

Shouts suddenly arose from the other room. Ashla turned quickly and charged back across the living room. Jason and Ponc's wife followed in her wake. The youngling Calibops hardly turned their beaked-faces away from the cartoons they were watching. In the other room Ponc stood facing Brakatak and Frip, who were trying to calm the angry bird down.

"They're slaves. Escaped slaves. I knew I recognized their uniforms from somewhere. I saw them on some of the government agricombines up north. Earth slaves under heavy guard were working there. Most of them were dressed just like him." Ponc pointed his wing at Jason. "Drefac go call the Culter City Guard."

Jason wondered how it had taken the aviary-alien so long to figure it out before deciding Ponc must literally be as bird-brained as he looked.

"No wait, I can explain." Ashla stepped between their friends and their Calibop hosts. She squarely faced Ponc and Dresac and looked them both deeply in the eyes. The Jedi waved her hand in front of the two bird-people. "We really are from the Mars Flora and Fauna Service. We crash landed our airspeeder a few miles away."

"You are from the Mars Flora and Fauna Service and you crash landed your airspeeder a few miles away." The two Calibops echoed each other as if they were monotonous zombies.

"So lunch is ready." Dresac suddenly announced as if nothing had just happened.

"Come my friends, you really must try her Apple Slug Stew." Ponc cheerfully announced. All thoughts of turning them over to the authorities seemed to have been forgotten. The male Calibop led the group past Jason on their way to the dining area.

"Wait? What?" Jason choked out, his mind failing to register what had just happened. Weren't they just about to be given up to the local cops? All Ashla did was wave her hand in front of them and they seemed to forget all about possible fugitives in their home.

"Jedi." Frip whispered to him. The grin on his face told him that that was all he needed to know, as if Ashla being a Jedi explained it all. Evidently there was still a lot he needed to learn about the stunning alien girl with this fantastic Force ability of hers.

The stew proved to be edible, though a little slimy. The other three fugitives slurped the stuff right out of the bowl. Even Ashla asked for seconds and it seemed as if Frip and Brakatak could have finished off the entire pot by themselves. After his first bowl Jason stuck with the sandwiches, which appeared to be some type of odd, blue cheese and orange bacon combination. Throughout the meal none of the Calibops even hinted that they suspected the four of them to be fugitives.

As the meal ended a wailing hum filled the home from the outside. The dishes on the table started to rattle as if Mars itself was shaking.

"That would be our ride." Brakatak announced.

The group made their way outside with the youngling Calibops racing ahead to wave at the saucer-shaped, gray craft that was coming to a landing in the front drive of the farm. Jason thought the craft looked like a bulky frying pan with three booms that led to a cockpit of some sort on the right side of the craft. A bald, blue alien could be seen behind the starship's controls. Several weapons were mounted on the top and bottom of the craft and from everything Brakatak had told him about it, he was sure there were dozens of weapon systems he wasn't seeing.

"That, kid, is the _Agen's Light_. Your new home." Brakatak said out of earshot of the friendly Calibops.

"And she's a pirate ship?"

"She will be." Ashla said.

"You guys fly in that piece of junk? You're braver than I thought." Ponc laughed. "Please come back and see us anytime." He shook hands with each of them and they thanked him and his family for their hospitality.

A ramp lowered to the ground and four figures rushed out of the craft. The first two were short, chubby, pink aliens with oblong heads. Dark black eyes protruded from their faces on thick stalks. They were dressed in green mechanic overalls stained with grease in several locations.

Brakatak picked up the first one and flung him into the air before catching him in a friendly hug. The other little alien patted Frip and the big Gran on their backs. "Erw. Raf. It's wizard to see you two again. Have you been taking good care of our girl here?" Brakatak indicated the spaceship. The two aliens nodded vigorously.

The other two aliens seemed to be humans like himself. They were obviously females and damn cute ones, too. It didn't help that what they were wearing was pretty tight and awfully short, but he wasn't about to complain. They had multi-colored hair that hung loose to their waists and Jason guessed they were in their late teens or early twenties just like Ashla. The two 'human' girls raced up to Ashla and quickly embraced their friend. Brakatak walked up behind the two and swooped both of them off of the ground. They squealed with delight as they returned the embrace.

When Brakatak returned them to the ground they did the same thing to Frip who was laughing and crying with delight at the same time.

A blue-green figure with bright red eyes stood at the bottom of the ramp. The newcomer looked just like a hollywood alien from a sci-fi movie, except it was wearing clothes. Jason figured by the cut of the clothing that it was a 'she' as well.

"Rana friend greetings!" Frip called out.

"You schuttas ready to go home?" She called as the group made its way back to the craft.

"It may not be your home on Earth, but I hope you feel welcome here." Ashla said to Jason.

"I can get used to it." Jason answered, surprised at her kind invite. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was going to be living on an UFO.

"How about it kid, you ready to become a pirate?" Brakatak asked as they reached the ramp.

"Yo Ho!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Tarkin's Fist II~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dirtside~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome to all the new readers who marked this as a fav or an alert this last time around. Since reviews are the coin of the realm here on Fanfic I would love to here from you guys. Always willing to discuss a point or issue in a PM as well. Chapter 3 is done. 4 is on it's way as the war escalates and slogs on.


	43. Act 4 While My Guitar Gently Weeps

**MedBay _Besh_, MedStar Frigate _Sedative_, Luna, Polar Orbit, Sol System**

_This is going to hurt a little._

Captain Timus Roblin had come to hate those words because a little always turned into a lot. He'd never imagined changing the simple bacta dressings on the burns to his upper face could hurt so much. Even then, there were plenty of guys who had it worse than he did. Some of the badly burned men; most of them TIE pilots and bomber crews, and a few stormtroopers that had been unlucky enough to be hit with that sticky, jellied petrol stuff the Earthlings used against them, needed tranqarest every time they got fresh dressings. He didn't, at least, not any more. When he heard troopers howling through the night he understood the meaning of the phrase 'it could be worse'.

He missed the pain killer now that he wasn't getting it but not enough to make him think he'd turned into a spice-happy glitbiter. It did no more against the pain than whatever else the MedDroids had. He could bear to live with the tranqarest, if he had to.

He blinked a few times to clear away the tears in his eyes. Since he had arrived aboard the hospital starship he had undergone three separate surgeries on his eyes. Now the orbs that filled up his sockets were no longer his. His original eyeballs had been deemed by surgeons of the Martian Medical Corps to be too far gone for recovery. If he had been conscious at the time of their decision he was sure he would have put up a fight. The cybernetic replacements they had placed in his head were supposed to be far superior to his original eyes, but that had yet to be seen. He moaned at his macabre pun.

He blinked and more tears trailed down into his temples. Ever since the surgery his repaired tear ducts had been flowing like they were on the Kessel Run. They ached in agitation at the foreign objects now implanted securely in his skull. The only good thing he had heard from the MedDroids and nurses were that the cybernetics would allow him to return to the controls of a TIE fighter one day. That day would be long in coming, he feared. Even after a week of daily, hour-long immersions in the bacta tanks he could still hardly walk on his shattered leg and his right shoulder blade was still repairing itself.

A lot of troopers filled the other MedBays of the frigate. Shattered bones and internal shock damage seemed to be the most common wounds. Nobody had figured before the invasion that even though the enemy's slugfire couldn't pierce the new stormtrooper anti-ballistic armor that it might still do some damage. A lot of troopers from Target East were missing limbs from a nasty sniper/machine slugthrower the Americans used. The slugs from that weapon, which the wounded stormtroopers called a Ma Deuce, were the size of your thumb and ripped off arms and legs, or worse, when they impacted.

He looked over at the blurry medals on his bedside table between his hospital bed and the burnt AT-ST driver in the next bed over. They had recently added the diamond cluster onto the Imperial Wound Badge he had earned at the Death Star years ago. He had also received the Bronzium Valor Medal to go with his Silver Valor Medal. He didn't particularly think he deserved another Valor Medal but nobody had asked him. He had also been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, which thrilled him even less than it did the vacheads that gave him the new rank squares for his dress uniform.

And he had gotten a flimsiplast letter from Lieutenant August and the rest of his boys in _Mynock_ Squadron. They weren't just fellow pilots, they were also his friends despite their differences in rank. His biggest fear, besides never seeing again, was that he might not be able to command the _Mynocks_ anymore. He hoped that his higher rank wouldn't take him away from front line duty when he was cleared for operational flight status.

Inside a glass of saline solution on the table sat another strange, alien object. It was a pointed piece of shaped lead that the surgical droids had dug out of his leg. A few centimeters more to the center and they would have had to fit him for a replacement cybernetic leg, they had told him. As it was they had had to replace a lot of the tendons and muscles in his damaged appendage.

He studied the small object and wondered how anything so small had come so close to ending his life.

"So, given it any more thought?" an alluring, most certainly female, voice asked him from the foot of his bed. Through his blurry vision he could make out the curvy figure of Imperial Nurse Zhellday. He didn't need fully restored vision to tell that the pink Zeltron in gray scrubs was stunning; almost all of her species were.

Zhellday was passing through the rows of beds, emitting her pleasure inducing pheromones that comforted the injured troopers. Roblin didn't have to be a hyperdrive theorist to figure out that most of the males in the MedBay were wishing she was comforting them in some other manner. Hell, he was wishing it too.

"Have you considered the Navy's offer?" She practically purred. He wished she was offering something else. Actually, she probably was. The Zeltros were usually all about love. When that ended they had nothing left but fight in them. It was common knowledge was that they made great girlfriends but horrible wives, not that he was looking for either at the moment.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I think I'm gonna keep these baby blues you guys gave me." Roblin had been offered a wide range of ocular cybernetics to replace his eyes, from telescopic vision to thermal and infra-red imagers. The only problem with that was they all required bulky ocular eyepieces or visors to work and he wasn't about to mar his face any more than he had to. Instead, in one of the few lucid moments he had had when the medics first brought him up here, he had asked the 2-1B surgical droid to restore him to his prior appearance as much as possible.

The last time Nurse Zhellday had changed his bandages she had allowed him to look in a mirror with his slowly clearing vision. Besides a fierce redness to his skin he could perceive the tiny scars around his eye sockets. Other than that the new eyes looked almost identical to the ones that had been lost.

"You know you might be right. The flight surgeons won't stop you from climbing back into a TIE, flyboy. And besides, they look good on you."

Roblin gave her his most alluring, Corellian smile at the compliment. The trouble with Zeltros is you never knew if they meant their flirting or not. As far as he knew if a Zeltron piffer wasn't flirting then she wasn't breathing.

He wished he had a private room then maybe something interesting might have happened. But the MedBay didn't even boast curtains around the beds so whatever the medical droids did to you, everybody got to watch. After a while you mostly didn't care. This once, Roblin might have.

His mind tried to shape several pleasant fantasies as he watched the nurse sanitize her hands in the antisepsis energy field at the foot of his bed. All pleasant thoughts of the curvaceous nurse abruptly vacated his mind as soon as she came back to the head of the bed and reached for his bacta dressings around his face, "This will only hurt a little."

That little wasn't the lot it had been the day before, but it certainly was more than a little.

His hand reached for the button located along the side of the bed that controlled his analgesic infusion pump. Within several pumps of his heart he could have had pain numbing spice flowing through his veins. He stopped himself short knowing they would never let a glitbiter back behind the controls of a TIE. Nurse Zellday was extremely gentle. She had told Roblin days before that she had been working in burn wards for the Empire since the Battle of Renastasia a few years before the 'big jump'. He could see that now, even though the first time she had done it the pain had been intense enough for him to question if she had ever been inside a Nursing Academy.

He sucked in a breath and caught a strong dose of the contentment and relaxation pheromones she was purposely emitting. His hand retreated from the pain-relief button. Within a few seconds he decided that this was the most wonderful form of torture ever devised.

She removed the green bandages and he was relieved not to notice any blood or patches of skin had come off with them as they had the first time the nurse had changed his bandages.

"Would you like to see?" Zhellday asked.

"Well, I don't know if I can get any prettier, but I guess I'll take a look." He did his best to give her a wink but his damaged eyelid didn't seem to want to work right and stuck to his new cybernetic for a second. She smiled at him none the less.

She handed him the mirror and he studied his blurry reflection for a long time. His upper face was still bright red but the dead skin had disappeared and the swelling had decreased dramatically from the day before. He moved his new eyes back and forth and up and down in his sockets. They responded exactly as his old ones would have had. Once he got used to them they were supposed to work better than the old pair, too.

"See. You're still tall, dark and handsome." It was Zhellday's turn to give him a wink. She took the mirror back from him when he was done with it. "Ready for the bacta tank?"

"I guess." He sighed.

Zhellday helped him sit up in the bed. His right shoulder was still pretty sore but it would be less so after another hour in the healing, blue liquid. He stood up and his left leg responded with an immediate and sharp twinge of pain as the rebuilt muscles rebelled at his sudden upright status. Zhellday reached out and placed her arm around him to steady him. "You can lean on me while we walk. Just take it slow, alright."

He wrapped his arm around Zhellday's shoulders and let her guide him around the bed and towards the exit. Each step felt a little better than the last and his stride felt stronger than the day before. The feel of her body beside his made him think of a dozen other things he'd rather be doing with her at the moment and none of them included them being upright.

Roblin could smell the sickly-sweet odor of bacta well before they reached the rejuvenation bay down the hall from the burn ward. As they walked slowly down the hall he couldn't help noticing medbay after medbay filled with injured stormtroopers and surgeons relearning the lost art of slug removal. They entered the bustling vat room and Zhellday led him to the nearest available bacta tank.

Roblin tested out his new eyes with a quick scan of the room. Ten blue, glowing tanks sat along the wall. Most of them were already in use by wounded troopers. Two others were in the process of changing out occupants. The room was filled with nurses and droids, and several wounded enlisted men waited their turn on a bench along the opposite wall. At his assigned tank two nurses were guiding a scout trooper with a new cybernetic arm out of the bacta. Zhellday helped Roblin strip off his black hospital scrubs as they waited their turn.

Zhellday smiled as she undressed him and he got the distinct impression that she was checking him out. He wore only his blue military issued swim trunks and except for a burned upper face, an ugly bruised shoulder and a diminishing hole in his leg he knew he looked quite fit. She positioned a rebreather over his nose and mouth, careful not to disturb his burns.

Once the scout trooper was out of the way an attending 2-1B medical droid signaled that Roblin could proceed. "Bacta tank 0-8 is ready for you, Sir."

"Thanks." Roblin climbed the stairs to the top of the tank; careful not to place too much weight on his damaged limb. Zhellday waited at the bottom of the steps, letting him test out his leg on his own. He climbed into the tank feet first and let his body sink into the healing liquid. The top of the container sealed shut once he was completely submerged.

His body started to tingle immediately, not only on the surface of his skin but deep within his shattered muscles and bones. The top half of his face felt as if it had been placed in a tub of ice. His shoulder throbbed but even that seemed to diminish with each passing second. He shifted his gaze to the room outside of the tank and was pleased to find that it wasn't the blur he had been used to when he opened his eyes underwater. Instead his new cybernetics worked as well as if he wore swim-shields over them. He smiled as best he could with the rebreather in his mouth and waved at Zhellday.

"Please keep still, Lieutenant Commander. You must allow the bacta to do its work." The 2-1B admonished him through audiothrowers embedded in the top of the vat. Roblin obeyed. Zhellday may be cute but nothing was going to slow him down from returning to the controls of a TIE fighter.

The treatment lasted for his allotted hour. When it was over Zhellday helped him to climb out of the tank. He reached for her with his good left arm and as he pushed upwards his right shoulder was sore but it felt much stronger than it had been before. He paused at the top of the stairs to test his legs and found that they seemed to give equal support as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He felt some minor soreness as he descended the stairs but he could live with that.

Nurse Zhellday helped him towel off. He gave her a wink at the intimacy of her pat down and she giggled seductively.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" a female voice came from the doorway to the rejuvenation room.

In the entrance stood Princess Phasma Yos dressed in the uniform of a naval Second Lieutenant. Behind her, wearing matching smirks at his current predicament, was his Wing Commander, Commander Vertitas and Naval Captains Druken and Fretner from the Star Destroyers _Charger_ and the _Battle of Geonosis._ In the hallway behind this group stood a small squad of blue Imperial Guardsmen.

Roblin immediately dropped to one knee and his left leg smarted at the sudden movement. Zhellday, along with the rest of the nurses and troopers in the room, followed his lead. "Your Highness, Nurse Zhellday was just helping me dry off my . . . last session in the bacta tanks."

"I'm sure Nurse Zhellday here was only doing her duty to the Empire." The teenaged Imperial Princess towered over the kneeling Imperial Nurse.

"Yes, your Majesty." Zhellday answered.

"These Gentlebeings wanted to see you, Lieutenant Commander. Is there somewhere we could speak more privately?" Phasma asked.

"Conference Room 6 _Cresh_ is currently unoccupied down the hallway, your Excellency." One of the 2-1B said from behind Roblin.

"Well then, Lieutenant Commander, I suggest you grab some clothes and join us there as soon as you can." Vertitas said. Phasma's party turned and left the room.

"Wow, I've never been this close to royalty before." Zhellday said, star struck, as if she had just run into her favorite HoloDrama celebrity.

"Me neither, sweetheart. I've met Phasma before, back when the fleet was drifting towards its doom around Earth 5 but she was only a Second Loot back then. She's come up in a big way in the Empire since we last met. Should be interesting to see what she wants." Roblin was already on his feet and putting his black hospital scrubs back on. He wondered if he should have Zhellday replace the bacta wraps around his upper face before he met with the princess but decided that it could wait until he returned to the Burn MedBay. He decided in the end it was best to put on his bravest face in order to look fit enough to return to front-line flight duty.

The nurse walked him to Conference Room 6 _Cresh_. She stopped when they got to the Imperial Guards outside the room. "Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

"I hope so." She reached up and grabbed the back of his head pulling his face close to her hers. She practically made his ion engine overheat when she kissed him, her tongue wrestling with his for a long moment. She pulled away as suddenly as she had grabbed him and the grin she flashed was a promise of more to come. She winked and left him before returning to her duties.

Roblin still tasted Zhellday on his lips as he entered the conference room. Princess Phasma sat at the head of the table in earnest discussion with the two naval Captains. She stood as soon as she saw Roblin enter, then walked around the durasteel conference table and approached the much taller TIE pilot. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his burnt face. "Does it still hurt?"

"I won't lie, your Majesty, it's still pretty tender. But the med-droids say I can expect a full recovery in another week." Roblin said. "The bacta helps a lot. I'm getting around on the leg well enough and the shoulder is mending nicely. They said the face should be back to my normal handsome self in a few days or so. The droids didn't even have to replace any of it with Synthskin."

"That's wizard." The pre-teen royal said.

"Well, that works out astral. We'll lean on them to put you back on flight status by then." Vertitas said from his seat.

Roblin's heart leapt with joy. He was going to fly again. However, concern for his squadron mates and what he might see when he returned quickly dampened his excitement. "Sir, what about the _Mynocks?_ The air battle over Target East was still ongoing when I got injured. Nobody up here will tell me what's been going on for the past week."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take the _Mynocks_ away from you."

Roblin's heart threatened to eject from his chest, booster climb up his throat, and slap him with a left hook of self-pity. For a second he hoped his new implants didn't trigger his damaged tear ducts into over-reacting in front of so many superiors. He had never shed a tear in his life, not even when his spacer father had kicked him out of the family's home in Coronet City when he was a no more than a youngling. But he had never cared for anything like he loved leading the _Mynocks._ "Sir?"

"About time we bumped Lieutenant August up to Captain and gave him your old slot. Don't you agree?"

"Striker would be an excellent commander, Sir. I couldn't think of anyone more deserving." Roblin was genuinely happy for his friend but couldn't help but wonder where that left him. "But what about my next duty assignment, Sir?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have another Squadron to give you." Vertitas let his words hang in the air for a moment. "I could, however, use a new Commander for the _Quill's_ TIE Wing, the 666th."

Roblin sucked in a surprised gasp. A TIE Wing of his own? Forty-eight TIE/in starfighters, twelve TIE/sa bombers, as well as almost another thirty support craft, and _Mynock_ and _Bantha_ Squadrons would be under his charge. "Sir, I think I might know just the guy you'll want for that slot." Roblin couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. The crinkling of the skin around his eyes hurt a little but at the moment he didn't care.

"I thought you just might, Lieutenant Commander." Vertitas stood up and shook his hand. "Congratulations."

He looked at the two Star Destroyer Captains. "Is there some other reason you all came to see me." His promotion was nice, but it didn't explain the presence of the two senior officers or even the proximity of the Heir to the Martian Empire.

"Lieutenant Commander Roblin, come to attention." Captain Fretner ordered as he and Captain Druken stood up. For the first time he noted that both men wore the red piping of Corellian bloodstripes along the trousers of their uniforms. Glancing over to Vertitas he noted that his commander now sported the yellow pipings of a second-class bloodstripe.

"For courage above and beyond the call of duty to Empire and your fellow beings, your fellow Corellians deem you worthy to wear the bloodstripe first-class." Captain Druken announced. He reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out the prestigious red markings and presented them to Roblin. They were the highest award a Corellian could receive. Roblin felt honored beyond words and extremely thankful they weren't being presented at his funeral pyre, which was the most common way a Corellian was awarded the honor.

"These are in honor of your actions with those flying bombs the earthlings used to disable the shields over Target East and your willingness to sacrifice yourself in the line of duty." Fretner added." It is believed amongst us Corellians that anyone can be brave in the heat of the moment but true heroism comes when one knows that doing the right thing will hurt, but does it anyways."

"Thank you, Sirs." He shook both of their hands. He winced when Captain Druken slapped him on his right shoulder but recovered before anyone noticed. "Is there any word on what is happening dirtside?" he asked.

Druken answered. "The shield was only down for a minute or so but the earthlings were able to pound our forward positions pretty heavily. As you know, once the shield initially went up Theater Commander Moff Seco was satisfied to let the locals blast at it to their heart's content. Prove to them how futile their efforts were compared to the might of the Empire. No matter how heavy the slug they threw they weren't going to blast through that way. Now the situation has changed and we've picked up on counter-battery fire."

"We've also picked up on night time bombings around the two target cities, especially after the People's Republic of China tried the same trick a few days ago around Target West." Vertitas added.

"Any luck? And why night-time bombings?" Roblin asked.

"No, our fighters jumped them before they came within fifty kilometers of the shield. We're not going to fall for the same trick twice running. As for our bombers, things are getting a bit thick for daylight runs with all the flak slugthrowers they've brought forward. All bombing missions have been moved to nighttime hours." Roblin nodded. He had noticed an uptake in wounded TIE/sa pilots arriving aboard the _MedStar_ since he had gotten here.

"How close are the earthlings to capitulating, Gentlebeings? I'm afraid my father has been busy as of late with the recent upswing of colonization efforts and plans to expand the Empire." Phasma asked.

Druken and Fretner exchanged glances, as if each was waiting for the other to respond. "I don't know if it's our place to say, your Majesty." Fretner admitted.

"Come now, we're here to honor this gallant pilot for his courage. The least you can do is put up a brave front for a meager girl." Phasma said evidently baiting the high ranked officers.

Roblin had to admit he admired the Princess's style. She came across as more regal than her father had on the HoloNews, that was for sure. Roblin had a decade on her when it came to age but he didn't feel too bad admitting that she would be a real stunner when she grew up. He wondered why she had come all the way out here to see one lousy wounded space jockey. Well, if he had her attention he certainly wasn't going to waste the opportunity by being a wallflower.

He interjected before the others could answer, "They don't want to admit that the army is stalled, your Highness."

Both of the senior Captains coughed and cleared their throats in irritation at the remark. Roblin continued. "Isn't it true that the Army hasn't left the protection of the planetary shield since it secured its toeholds in the two target cities?"

"Have the earthlings held us to such meager gains?" Phasma asked.

"Not at all, your Highness." Vertitas asserted. "The inactivity dirtside is by no means the Stormtrooper Corps fault. The simple fact of the matter is no one's received any orders to advance."

"Isn't that the Theater Commander's prerogative?"

Druken broke in, "It is, but whenever the subject has been broached Moff Seco has brushed it aside with claims that he is awaiting directives from Emperor Yos. At the same time Seco spends all his time behind closed doors aboard the _Wilderness_ with other senior officers. Scuttlebutt is he's taking his time planning the next stages of the invasion while the Fleet continues its lackadaisical daily bombardments of infrastructure targets."

"If that is true then why haven't any new orders been cut?" Vertitas asked. "I've heard even Operation _Piper_ has been stalled again in the Pacific."

"Who told you that?" Fretner asked.

"A little cloned bird. They have snatched up all the smaller nations and islands that occupy the large ocean but they don't know where to go from there. Japan, the Philippines, Australia or Indonesia . . . it could be any of them, yet Seco remains silent. I heard Admiral Bacara of the Anoat Squadron is as angry as a drunken Aqualish about it."

"Sirs, this is news to me. I have not heard even a hint of this from my Father. Though I will admit he has been distracted from the war. The royal family had the utmost trust that Moff Seco would execute the war to a successful conclusion in the Empire's favor." Phasma said. Roblin suspected the Princess wasn't entirely convinced of her words.

"Of course. He just needs to get off his kriffing _shebs_ and get on with it." Roblin said. The other officers were dismayed at his choice of words in front of their future sovereign but the young girl just giggled at everyone's reaction to her perceived discomfort. She's going places, Roblin thought, and one day her Empire will not be stalled by anyone who stands in her way.

"I was raised aboard a Star Destroyer, not a palace, Sirs. I'm familiar with the words the Lieutenant Commander chooses to use. Is there anything else you can tell me now? Reports that the Theater Commander isn't relaying back to Culter City, perhaps?"

"Nothing that we know of. We've all been sitting in blockade around the Earth waiting for something to happen. The army sits dirtside while Moff Seco twiddles his thumbs." Druken admitted. Roblin was curious as to why Emperor Yos wasn't taking more of an interest in all of this. Why was his daughter the one asking these questions? What was he doing that was so much more important than the lives of his beings?

"Well, I will certainly light a fire under the Theater Commander the next time I meet with him. Speaking of the army, what is the morale of our brave Boys-in-White?"

Vertitas answered for the gathered Corellians. It made sense; Roblin's former commander was now in charge of FlightOps for Target East and probably had the best grasp on the situation there. Roblin doubted Druken or Fretner ever came down from orbit. "Tense. The garrisons and the frontline entrenchments are stable but everything else under the shield is quite fluid. The neighborhoods remain in ruins with the stormtroopers heavily patrolling the areas."

"I've heard they give a long hard look at anything that looks like a scrapped landspeeder. Bombings have risen to a little over a dozen a day in both cities, while sniper activity and booby traps are on the rise, as are casualties. In some areas all out skirmishes with rebels have been reported. We're not sure but we think many of these slugthrowers and improvised explosives they're using were left behind when the American army quit the city. Fleet Intelligence has reported to Moff Seco that the Earthlings may also be infiltrating the lines somehow. I understand it's much the same with the Chinese around Target West." Fretner added.

Phasma turned to Roblin, a questioning look in her eyes as if asking for his confirmation. He was awestricken that she knew none of this, but even more shocked that he was being brought into the inner dealings of high-command."It is so, Princess. I led the _Mynock_ Squadron over Target East dozens of times before my crash. We were engaged by random slugfire from the ground almost every time. I can only imagine things are worse for the poor infantry. I already know the garrisons are locked down and the stormies aren't allowed out in less than squad strength. As for the abos, there were more of them in the wreckage every flight."

"Any recommendations to knock the wind out of this growing rebellion?" She asked. To Roblin's ears she sounded like Emperor Palpatine did when he spoke of the mysterious rebels back in the Home Galaxy.

"Reprisals are harsh, but obviously not harsh enough. The troopers take hostages to discourage attacks. They started with twenty-five executions for every stormtrooper killed and then bumped it to fifty. That number is expected to double again soon." Vertitas said.

"I heard they're blasting a hundred for every landspeeder bomb as well. The commanders in Shanghai have already bumped that up to two hundred. But then that's tough on the troops. I read a highly-classified report that a pair of troopers ate their blasters after long-term duty in the blasting line." Druken added.

"Those cities should have been emptied. The way I see it, no army should go forward with a potential enemy in their rear. With _Piper_ stalled in the Pacific, I would suggest my father move those troopers into the Target cities to start clearing them out." Phasma suggested.

"You might be starting a turf war between your father and the Theater Commander." Roblin warned but he was impressed with both her grasp of the concepts and her decisiveness.

"I will consider your advice and heed your warning. It isn't very often that one receives such wisdom from a TIE pilot." Phasma seemed to blush. She tried to hide it so the others wouldn't notice but Roblin spotted it with his newly-enhanced eyesight.

"That's his Corellian blood, your Highness." Druken said.

"Your. . . um. . . career shows great promise. I will be watching you, Lieutenant Commander. Is there anything I could do to assist you when you return to Earth?" Phasma asked.

"We could use those new fighters coming off the line on Mars. The TIE/In interceptors could give us an edge in speed on the abo airspeeders we're going up against. Speed has already been the deciding factor in several pilots' deaths during this war." Roblin said.

"I've heard this request from several other sources. You must believe we are producing them as fast as we can but production rates are still strained on Mars. Hmmm . . . let's see," Phasma turned to Vertitas. "Is there any reason why Lieutenant Commander Roblin's new wing shouldn't be the next one rotated out of the line for training on the new snubnose fighters?"

"The 1453rd out of the Ploo Sector Fleet was scheduled next but I see no reason to displease your Majesty. I shall cut orders for _Mynock_ and the rest of the 666th TIE Wing to join you on Mars for transfer to the new machines." Vertitas conceded. Roblin knew his former commander was sandbagging. The man wanted to be behind the controls of the hot new fighters himself, not behind a desk in a garrison complex on some backrocket world. It didn't help that he and Roblin used to be rivals and that Roblin was probably the last TIE pilot he wanted to see behind the stick of the slick interceptors.

"Excellent, then it's settled." Phasma practically beamed. Roblin was sure that if he could see himself in the mirror he'd be beaming as well. With a royal attitude like hers, one that cared about her troopers just as much as her title, he was convinced he'd follow her anywhere.

"I think the Lieutenant Commander should get some rest if he is to recover in the next few days before taking over his new Wing." Vertitas suggested.

"I agree. It was a pleasure meeting you again, Timus." She suddenly seemed shy while using his first name.

"And you as well, Princess." Roblin was on top of the universe. He wasn't sure how, but he now found himself in the favor of the Heir to the Empire, had a new command, had just been given the highest honor of his life, and had a fun-loving sexy Nurse Zhellday with an unorthodox bedside manner awaiting his return. What could go wrong?

He saluted each of his superior officers and bowed once again to Princess Phasma, who curtsied in return. He turned and started to leave.

"Oh, Commander. One last thing." Phasma called to him. He stopped in the doorway between the two Imperial Guardsmen and looked back. "To help speed along your recovery I requisitioned a male nurse from this ship's personnel."

Roblin nodded, turned, and started back to his MedBay.

"Fierfek!" This next week was doomed to stretch into forever.


	44. Mallory 4

**NAU Main Line of Resistance, Upper California, NAU**

Corporal Justin Mallory felt more like a mole than a Ranger these days. His M6A3-SRT Assault Rifle leaned against the wall of the trench's firebay as he used his entrenchment tool to bite out one shovel full of muddy clay after another.

Every day since he and Sergeant Cortez had escaped from LA he had dug a little deeper. In fact everyone dug; the sad truth was that it was the only thing that was keeping them alive day after day. The bombproof he was shaping out of the forward wall of the trench wouldn't save him from a direct hit but he hoped it would do well enough to protect him from the killer plasma energy shrapnel the alien artillery threw about with every near miss.

When the Army had first retreated from the wreckage of Los Angeles the ETs had been content to let the few survivors of the battle escape unmolested. Instead the aliens had concentrated on putting up that strange forcefield of theirs and thumbing their noses at the American defenders in their siege lines.

Three weeks passed since then. Three weeks where the army had brought in more and more units and heavy equipment. Three weeks where those new troops had been allowed to dig deep within the earth and build miles and miles of entrenchments that resembled something Mallory's great great grandfather would have fought over during the Great War. The only difference was that with the help of modern construction equipment the army of the North American Union dug trenches at a speed that would have amazed Mallory's great great grandfather.

During those semi-peaceful weeks the American army had pounded the shield the ETs had put up with everything from heavy artillery and bombers to cruise missiles, rail guns, and chemical weapons. And they had nothing to show for it. The aliens had just sat behind their forcefield and let the defenders fire away at the damn thing. Occasionally they had returned counter-fire that let the Americans know they were still around but for the most part they were content to stay silent, as if to show Mallory and his fellow soldiers that there wasn't anything they could do to hurt them.

It had been a busy time for Mallory. Not only had he and Cortez both received promotions for their help in the capture of an alien prisoner of war, but he had received a squad of his own. Sergeant Cortez now ran a platoon of Rangers. Most of the new men that filled the ranks of their unit were fresh out of Ranger school. Mallory had been shocked to learn that several of them were only seventeen. He had heard the draft had been expanded down to that age group, but he didn't believe it till he saw it with his own eyes. The newcomers looked in awe at Mallory and Cortez, as if they were superheroes. Mallory didn't believe he deserved the hero-worship just because he had survived the Battle of Los Angeles. He would have worn the honor more easily if more soldiers had been able to walk away from the alien's landing site.

As he dug himself a bombproof in the front wall of the trench he tried to ignore the nagging thoughts of how many soldiers they had lost in the retreat. He knew high command was keeping a tight lid on it. He was just thankful the guys with stars on their shoulders hadn't ordered the troops to try to break into the city like he had heard the Chinese had. The rumor was the People's Republic had lost almost a quarter million soldiers trying to charge the shield that surrounded the ET's landing site in Asia. A loss like that would wreck the American army if they tried to cross the no-man's-land that separated the two armies.

Someone in the Air Force had come up with another bright idea instead. They had loaded up a flight of old B-52s with everything from Vietnam Era Daisy Cutters and MOABs to thousands of gallons of ANFO and kamikazed them right into the enemy's shield. Mallory had to admit the resulting explosion was impressive. Short of a nuclear blast he wasn't sure humans on Earth had ever created a blast that big. They were still finding pieces of those planes twenty miles away.

The bad news was that it had worked. The shield had dropped for a little less than a minute. The American army had been ready, too. Mallory remembered watching from his trench as thousands of hidden artillery guns and rockets launchers had poured rounds into the city. It had looked and sounded like a monstrous Fourth of July celebration. _God help the civilians still stuck in LA, _he thought.

Then as quickly as it had fallen the shield had come back up. The effect on the enemy had been the same as lighting a firecracker inside an anthill. The ETs didn't stay quiet after that. After three weeks of peace and quiet from the aliens the Men from Mars now poured artillery barrages back on the American lines. They jumped any aircraft that approached the shield and blasted highly-effective counter-battery fire back onto any American battery that opened up. Mallory spent most of his time repairing smashed trenches with his squad or trying to catch some sleep in poorly-lit, underground bunkers.

The sun was rapidly disappearing in the East, which meant it was almost time for the ETs' 'H' bombers to pay them a visit. The anti-aircraft batteries in the American lines had made it too costly for the enemy to linger over the NAU's entrenchments for very long during daylight hours, so the aliens now predominately stuck to night time aerial raids.

Mallory cocked his ears for danger. At the moment he could hear a rolling barrage working over the 7th Armored Division's positions to the east of him. He didn't know anyone in the 7th AD so he was content that at least the enemy fire wasn't falling on him at the moment.

He looked down the walls of the firebay to make sure his men weren't larking about. Three of them were improving a firing position for a heavy, .50 cal machine gun. Two of them had been sent for dinner rations, which would probably be skimpy as usual due to the army's current supply problems and fuel shortages. Almost everything had to be brought to the front on soldier's backs for the last five to ten miles because the ground had been too torn up for trucks. The few trucks in the front line served as gun limbers for the artillery. His last two men manned a pair of periscopes that looked out over the lip of the trench and over the barrenness of the no-man's-land.

During the quiet weeks the enemy had patrolled the zone with super fast, flying motorcycles. After their shield went down they used them again for lightening quick raids on the American lines, at least until the army brought up some Phalanx CIWS and entrenched them across the front. The weapons, borrowed from the Navy, were slaved to motion-detection systems. Anything that moved in between the lines was greeted with 4,000 rounds of high-explosive incendiary tracer rounds a minute. A half dozen flaming, flying motorcycles later and the raids ended rather abruptly.

Mallory smiled at the fiery memory of the first victims. His thoughts were torn away from his digging and pleasant memories by a high pitched warble that drifted across the American lines. Down the zig-zagging rows of trenches soldiers started banging on empty shell-casings to alert their comrades. Men ran every which way as they dove into one bunker entrance after another.

Thousands of anti-aircraft batteries opened up on the night sky. They put up a curtain of lead in the hope one of the enemy pilots would blunder into it. Several scattered piles of alien scrap in the trenches showed that the technique worked even if it was a rarity.

Mallory climbed up onto the firing step on the forward wall and peeked over the lip of the trench. To the south formations of 'H' bombers circled over Los Angeles like an angry swarm of bees. Already the lead squadrons were passing through the shield and heading his way.

"Goddammit!" He leaped from the firing step and dove for his bombproof. The bunker was cut into the firebay twenty meters away. There was no way he'd make it in time.

Most of his men were already inside except for the two who had been manning the periscope. "Get the fuck down shitheads! Down! Down! Down!" Mallory screamed.

The two responded to him more than to any sense of impending danger. They were still noobs and hadn't seen with their own eyes what the alien technology could do to a soldier in the open. They looked confused for a second, no doubt wondering if they should try to run for their bunker or not.

An energy shell erupted in the trench ahead of theirs, sending debris and body parts in all directions. The shockwave traveled fifty yards and knocked both of the rookies off of their feet. The privates looked scared senseless as they tried to bury themselves in the mud at the bottom of the trench. Mallory had overheard the two of them griping earlier that all the digging was pointless busywork. He wondered what they thought now as they hugged the Earth.

"Stay the fuck down! Don't move!" Mallory yelled from his limited cover. High overhead the first formation of enemy bombers filled the evening skies with the high-pitched whine of their engines. From tens of thousands of feet in the air blue, glowing orbs rained down all around them. The alien bombs fell without the whine or scream an earth-made bomb would have made. Instead they fell in ethereal silence through the long lines of tracer fire arcing into the sky.

Someone not far down the trench started screaming as soon as he saw the bombs falling. The soldier Mallory had once imagined that he'd be would have laughed. It seemed both funny and cowardly. But he wasn't laughing. It was all he could do not to scream himself.

And then the bombs weren't falling anymore. They were bursting. The noise was like the end of the world. Erupting craters threw tons of dirt and debris across the battlefield. The blasts picked him up and slammed him down. They tried to reach down his throat and tear his lungs out through his nose. By then plenty of people were screaming. After a little while he realized he was one of them.

"Torpedoes!" someone shouted.

Mallory peeked out and saw several flaming, orange projectiles streak across the sky from the bomber formations. The powerful alien projectiles smashed into a camouflaged Patriot Missile battery a mile away. The blast was like two freight trains smashing into each other. The sky in that direction momentarily lit up as if a new sun had emerged over the battlefield.

Fragments of shrapnel hissed and whistled overhead. Mud and dirt thrown up by bomb bursts rained down into the trench. A chunk of metal thumped into the soft dirt about six inches above Mallory's head. He reached out and touched it then jerked his hand away because it was hot as hell. If it had come down on his head instead of near it, his war would have been over in a heartbeat.

While Mallory contemplated his mortality a bomb burst in the trench system less than a hundred feet away. The earthwork zigzagged, so the blast didn't travel far. What the bomb did was bad enough anyways. Dirt and debris rained down across his firebay, followed by lightning quick flashes of blue plasma shrapnel that threatened to shred any soldier caught out in the open into dog food. Something landed on Mallory's feet. He automatically reached out to see what it was and found himself holding a little less than half of someone's hand.

With a cry of disgust he threw away the ruined part of a man. He squeezed his eyes shut from the horror as hard as he could until his mind rebelled and convinced him that he could feel the earthen walls collapsing around him. He felt trapped in his small bombproof. Once the shrapnel passed he leapt to his feet. Shrieks from close by where the bomb had hit sent him moving in that direction. Only silence came from the very place where the bomb had landed. Nothing there lived to shriek.

It was nearly pitch black in the trench system. Explosions and fires dimmed his night-vision goggles and he couldn't see very well but he recognized the stench of a meat packing plant, the smell of men who had lost control of their bowels or had their guts ripped open and sprayed across the walls of the trench. He knew it, but training could never have prepared him for the real thing.

Lying in the mud alongside the young soldiers who were dead were several who wished they were. Disembodied voices shouted loudly for someone to help them or kill them. Mallory wasn't sure he could have done much for the former, but he sure as hell didn't want to do the latter.

He set to work trying to help the soldier nearest him, a fellow clutching a gaping wound in his forearm. As it turned out it was hardly any easier than putting them out of their misery. He had no medicine, no bandages, no anything. He tore the laces out of the injured soldier's boots and used them for a makeshift tourniquet and then he moved on. He never knew for sure if that did any good, for he went on to someone else right away, but he dared to hope.

Somebody else let out a whoop of savage glee, shouting, "We got one of the sons of bitches!" And so they had. An Imperial 'H' bomber overhead trailed fire from its engines. As he watched, the flames climbed up one of its side panels and towards the fuselage.

"I hope the cocksuckers in there roast," Mallory snarled. Several other soldiers nodded or wished something worse on the alien fliers. The burning craft plunged into the ground about a mile inside Mallory's own side's entrenchments. He didn't think anyone ejected but it was dark and hard to tell.

The ET bombers didn't linger over the American lines for very long. Long streams of them started flowing back to the south. Mallory had witnessed the same pattern for the past week. The 'H' bombers would rearm with more bombs and be back at least once, maybe twice more before dawn, raining their payloads of death and destruction down on some other hapless section of the frontline. Mallory wished his own Air Force could repay in kind.

It could have been worse. If it had been the Americans bombing the Imperials the Air Force would have scattered unexploded bomblets and mines across the enemy lines along with their regular bombs. So far, the ETs hadn't thought of such a devious idea. Mallory prayed to God they never did either.

Medics finally arrived to take care of the wounded. Mallory clutched his rifle close and jogged back to his firebay to check on his squad. He rounded the corner just as most of them were emerging from the bunker they had used for shelter. The two who had flung themselves into the mud were up and trying to clean themselves off.

"Everyone here? Anyone hurt?" Mallory asked the men.

"No, we're all here, Corp." One of the Rangers responded.

"Good. Let's get to work improving the trench. I want that new camouflage netting we got covering the whole firebay. I don't want to give those alien fuckers anything to aim at when they come back later." Mallory ordered. The squad got to work camouflaging the trench the best they could. Nobody went 'over the top'. Even the new Rangers knew that was a good way to punch your ticket. The aliens had snipers that could and regularly would hit a soldier at five miles, exactly the distance between Mallory's trench and the enemy's fortifications on the other side of their shield.

"Looks good, Mal." Mallory spun around to see who had spoken. Out of the darkness came Sergeant Cortez, his old squad leader who had gotten them both through the fighting in Los Angeles. Cortez was admiring the nets now stretched tightly across the twelve foot deep trench they lived in. Behind Cortez were three more squads of Rangers.

"Thanks, Sarge. Good to see you made it through that _unpleasantness."_

"It'll take more than an ET air armada to kill me. I plan on going out at a hundred and three. Shot in bed by a twenty year old jealous husband." Mallory saw Cortez smiling in the dark when the man lit a match and placed it to a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Your squad battle ready? Whole platoon's got tunnel duty tonight."

"Yeah, give me two minutes." Mallory said.

Cortez shrugged to indicate he wasn't in a huge hurry. "Make sure you bring your little friend."

"Might as well, but I think she's only got a blast or two left in her." Mallory said, referring to the 'phaser' he had taken from an ET soldier he had killed during the battle in the city. An indicator on its side had been diminishing every time he fired it. He was pretty sure the thing was almost out of juice.

"Couldn't do any harm." Cortez said.

"Ok." Mallory turned to his men. "5th Squad. Get your gear. NVGs, extra batteries, water and ammo."

"Travel light 5th Squad. Hopefully we'll be back by dawn." Cortez added. The men scrambled to collect their gear. For most of them this mission could be their first taste of combat outside of the nightly bombing raids and artillery barrages. A minute later the ten members of 5th Squad were back outside the bunker and loaded for bear. Most of them were armed with M6A3-SRTs like Mallory but two of them sported sawed-off versions of the Benelli M4 automatic shotgun, and his squad's grenadier carried a Milker M32 multiple grenade launcher.

Mallory ducked into the bunker and retrieved his 'little friend'. He tucked the alien blaster into a holster on his thigh and then pulled a 100 ounce camelbak hydration system onto his back. He stretched his black, flame retardant mask over his face (in the vain soldier's hope it would lessen the impact of one of the ET's lasers). He fixed his dragon skin body armor in place and covered it with his LBV containing his first aide pouch, compass, and extra batteries for his NVG. He clasped the NVS-26 night vision gear to his helmet and secured the lenses to his face. The bunker became clear as day as the system amplified the ambient moonlight in the area.

He came back outside and quickly looked over each of his men. Every one of them was decked out in the same manner as him. Mallory nodded to Cortez. The sergeant spit out a stream of chewed up sunflower seed shells, turned, and lead the platoon through the winding maze of firebays and communication trenches.

They passed through dozens of units on their way to their destination. Thousands of soldiers were out of their bunkers and repairing or extending the army's entrenchments. Night was the time the army was the most active. Work sent up clouds of dust, and during the day those clouds brought a rain of ET energy rounds. The American army had become a collection of nocturnal moles, Mallory thought.

The platoon of Rangers was largely ignored by the soldiers in the trenches. Every day more and more units arrived around LA. They were mostly brought up to the line during the night time hours. If they survived their first bombing raid they were considered veterans. Mallory knew that aside from him and Cortez most of the real veterans had been buried in the City of Angels.

It took about forty-five minutes to weave their way through the maze of entrenchments until they arrived at their destination; Los Angeles Aqueduct Pumping Station #43. The concrete structure had suffered several direct hits during the early bombardment of the city and the alien's efforts to cut LA off from the rest of the world. Mallory had heard they had even shot up the aqueduct in several hundred different places further north, effectively destroying the water-supply network for the Greater Los Angeles Basin. Mallory wondered how the civilians left behind were staying hydrated. The answer didn't want to form in his mind so he forced himself to stop thinking about it.

Amongst the wreckage of the building several camouflaged gun positions tracked the platoon's movement. At the northwest side of the building a small, well-camouflaged entrance was being guarded by a platoon of infantry behind concrete and sandbagged pillboxes. Sergeant Cortez exchanged passwords with the sentries at the entrance before they let the Rangers pass.

Mallory had been here before and noticed that the entrance to the cave was now covered with a dark, heavy tarp of some sort that hadn't been there on his previous visit. A sentry pulled the tarp aside to let Cortez inside. The Rangers had to pass though the entrance one at a time after their sergeant.

Inside the cave Mallory was greeted by the sight of almost sixty individuals. They milled about in the darkness, talking in low tones and waiting for the Ranger's arrival. Lit cigarettes shined brightly in his NVGs. The people inside the tunnel stood and locked and loaded their weapons. Three low-light emergency lights lit the tunnel but he could see that each of the occupants wore some version of NVGs on their faces but were dressed in mostly civilian clothes. Mallory wasn't surprised. He had been on one other infiltration mission and knew American army uniforms would have been death sentences for the commandos sneaking into the city.

Each of the men and a few women in the aqueduct had the look of a trained killer to them. They were all armed with several various firearms and most of them carried large ruck sacks on their backs. From past experience Mallory knew those packs were filled with explosives, ammo and food. Reports were there weren't a lot of things to eat in LA. Mallory had heard that the Imperials were letting the civilian population starve. Two men pulled small carts full of C4 plastic explosives. At the front of the group two special force soldiers wore BLEEX experimental exoskeletons and carried strange, gadgety weapons.

Mallory made sure he whispered, as sound carried for miles in the aqueduct. "Hey buddy, what are those?" he pointed to the exotic firearm.

"Coilgun. Highly experimental thing. We're gonna try to engage one of those ET stormtroopers with it." the soldier whispered back.

"Good luck pal." Mallory said. He recognized a suicide mission when he saw one.

Sergeant Cortez had been speaking to several infiltrators at the front of the group and turned around and gathered Mallory and the rest of his squad leaders to him. "Ok guys, this is what we got. Our platoon is to escort the infiltration teams to an insertion point about two klicks inside what used to be Burbank. Once we get past the aqueduct we will move through the remains of the sewage system and into the LA Metro."

"Lots of unstable ground underneath the city, Sarge. It's not like we or the Imps were all that gentle during the last battle." Mallory said.

"Supposedly engineers have shored up the passageway we're going to use, but. . . we'll see, won't we?"

"Sergeant, who are these guys?" One of the newer Rangers, Private Wilhelm, asked.

"Delta Force. Some of them and Marine Corp MSOT squads. About twenty of them are members of Seal Team Six. Those guys over there are British SAS and I think we've got some Israelis mixed in with the whole bunch. Most of these guys are pros and they have to know that a lot of them aren't coming back again, so don't give them any grief. We're just their escort to the Insert Point. If we run into trouble listen to me or Mal. We'll lay down covering fire and give these guys a chance to extract the hell out of Dodge. _Comprende_?"

"Yeah I understand, Sarge." The other junior NCO responded.

"Good, Mal, you and 5th got point." Sergeant Cortez ordered the other four squads into position and organized the special forces infiltrators into a column.

Mallory flipped the safety off of his assault rifle and took up point. Several large, concrete columns lay at awkward angles across the floor of the processing station. Exposed wires and smashed machinery were everywhere and several black scorch marks showed evidence of the alien bombardment that had destroyed the building.

Mallory led his squad around the debris and through the station to a large metal door. Behind him the infiltrators helped each other with their loads across the hazardous obstacle course. A metal lever on one side of the door disengaged several locks, which rattled loudly when Private Wilhelm pulled it. The sound faded away into echoes down the long, dark tunnel. Mallory directed three of his men to pull on the heavy door which swung slowly open with a groaning shriek.

Mallory stuck his head in first. He detected the presence of a metal staircase through his NVGs leading onto the floor of a large tunnel. The bottom of the tunnel was filled with murky, ankle-deep water. Without the active pumps the water was stagnating. The whole passageway smelled of moss and fuel oil. Mallory led the way down stepping into the cool water. Bioluminescent paint on the walls glowed in his night vision gear, illuminating the right direction.

He led the group south. For the longest time there was no other option. In some places the tunnel had caved in. But previous teams had dug through the fallen debris and allowed the group to press on. Mallory could tell after twenty minutes that they were somewhere underneath no-man's-land. One section of the tunnel had been cratered in and was exposed to the open air above. Mallory could see stars as he passed stealthily across the gap.

In some places in the tunnel the water rose to knee and even waist level. At times he wished he would have been issued fishing waders. At this rate he'd have to spend the next day drying out his equipment before it had a chance to rot.

It was an hour and a half into their journey when he determined they were passing underneath the ET's forcefield. A strong static charge filled the tunnel, accompanied by a high pitched buzzing in his ears. The sensation was only ten feet thick. As soon as they reached it everyone seemed on high alert. There was no knowing what they would run into once they reached the enemy lines.

As silently as they could they crept forward. Mallory felt the whole time as if he was being watched from somewhere in the darkness. Was he leading a hundred commandos into an ambush or was it just his imagination? He had no idea.

Forty minutes later they reached a section of the tunnel that had collapsed and was completely impassable. Mallory recognized the spot and signaled Cortez who was familiar with it too. The Ranger sergeant backtracked the group seventy yards to a small manhole hatch that was almost invisible to anyone who didn't know it was already there.

Cortez undogged the hatch and let it swing open. Blackness greeted them on the other side. They waited ten long seconds before Cortez cupped his hands over his mouth and whispered into the darkness. "Eli."

A few agonizing seconds passed. "Manning." Came a hushed reply from the other side. Mallory doubted that the ETs were familiar with the Hall of Fame quarterback.

"Ok, it's clear. Mallory get back on point. Stay frosty" Cortez said.

Mallory did just that, climbing up to the hatch and passing through before he turned and helped the next Ranger up. After several of them were through the hatch and assisting the remainder still in the tunnel Mallory looked about for their challenger. Twenty yards down the passageway he saw the business end of a M60E4 machine gun pointed in his direction.

The air in the new tunnel was foul and Mallory was thankful that his mask kept at least some of the stench out of his mouth and nose. They were now in what remained of the Los Angeles sewage system. Mallory waded through the knee-deep, watery muck over to the squad of soldiers who guarded the entrance to the aqueduct. The soldiers reached out and helped him across their sandbagged pillbox that allowed for them to stay out of the foul sewage that surrounded them. Wires ran back to the hatch that was ringed with explosives in case the Imperials ever found the entrance.

A pair of MAARS robots stood guard on both sides of the pillbox. The Modular Advanced Armed Robotic Systems mounted a pair of M202 FLASH napalm rocket launchers each, that were trained on the approaches to the sewage system.

Mallory was surprised that the soldiers had a dozen civilians huddled inside their position. "We came across them on patrol yesterday." One of the soldiers in the bunker explained, "They've been living down here on rats and whatever else they can find to eat. We told them they could go back with you guys when you showed up."

Cortez splashed up to the position and looked over the malnourished civilians. Four women, six children and two old men. The men both carried pistols while the women carried a mix of different sporting rifles. Mallory wasn't surprised when he spotted a grenade clasped in one of the kid's little hands. Cortez spoke to them, "We can take you back once we complete our mission." The old men nodded. "Once we get back to our side of the line I can't promise you much. Maybe a meal and then they'll ship you north or east. Probably factory work somewhere."

"Beats starving to death in Los Angeles. The aliens up there would rather let us eat each other." One of the woman said. "Who are those guys?" she pointed at the first of the infiltrators that was coming through the nearby hatch dressed in civilian clothes.

"Commandos. Saboteurs, pretty much. We're sneaking them into the city to see what kind of trouble they can stir up for the ETs." Cortez said.

"Gonna be more reprisals then. Those alien soldiers in white don't mess around. Every car bomb that goes off they hang or shoot another twenty, thirty prisoners. A hundred if you kill one of them." Another woman said.

Cortez nodded in understanding.

"After what they did to the rest of the country they can't hurt us any worse than they have. Would you rather just lay down and die?" Mallory asked.

"Young man, you don't know what it's like up there." One of the old men said.

"Hey, I barely made it out of LA alive, I know what those ETs are. . ." Mallory tensed as the old man challenged him. Hadn't he fought the ETs tooth and nail back through LA? Someone should put the old timer in his place, Mallory thought, might as well be me. He took a menacing step forward.

"Shut it, Mal." Cortez growled, putting an arm across Mallory's chest. Mallory stopped and then took a slow step backwards. The cramped confines of the sewers were making him agitated. Cortez continued, "What can you folks tell us about the sewers? Are the ETs patrolling them pretty thick?"

"Some areas they are. Especially near the freeways and their garrisons. Lots of people have disappeared down that way. A lot more of the sewers and subway have been destroyed by all the fighting, so you have to sort of pick and choose which way you're going to use to get around down here, but some of these tunnels will take you all the way south to the alien landing sites at LAX." Said the same old man who did most of the talking,"Though I've never heard of anyone coming back from that way and telling the tale."

"There's stuff that's worse than the aliens down here." one of the kids warned.

"Don't worry, kid. We're Rangers. We're not afraid of the bogeyman. He's afraid of us." Mallory said, which got him a few chuckles from his fellow Rangers. None of the civilians even cracked a smile.

"Ok, you folks stay here. We'll be back in a hour or so to pick you up and get you the hell out of here." Cortez said. "Rangers, lead the way."

Mallory waded into knee-deep muck as he led his squad into the darkness of the sewers. His NVGs made him feel as if he was entering a green lit medieval dungeon. He didn't want to think about what he was treading on with every squishy step. They passed quietly through the warren of sewer tunnels. The only sound was the slow, steady drip of water from every direction.

The hairs on Mallory's neck started to rise as the feeling of being watched crept into the back of his mind. Mallory suddenly stood deathly still and held a closed fist up, signaling the rest of the squad to stay still. A cool breeze wafted through the tunnel.

He cocked his ears and tried to listen for even the faintest of sounds. He slowly swiveled his head to the right and looked long and hard down a side tunnel. Nothing. He moved his head slowly back to the left.

Bloop.

Concentric circles emanated from the water filling the tunnel to his left as if someone had just skipped a stone across its surface. Mallory hadn't seen what caused them. Were there fish down here? Did one of them jump? Did something fall from the ceiling?

Small bubbles emerged from the sewage moving away from the American soldiers. It must have been a fish, Mallory thought. Whatever it was, it wasn't an ET. He opened the fingers on his closed fist and waved the Rangers in his squad forward again.

The water steadily warmed the further they went into the sewage system. Soon the water level had crept up to his belly. Fifteen more minutes passed before he came across a familiar intersection of two long passageways.

Just as he was about to step into the intersection he instincts made him stop. He flashed a hand signal for the squad to stop and crouch down. The squad submerged all but their noses and NVGs into the muck. Behind him in the darkness the infiltration teams followed suit. Not a one of the professional commandos made a sound as they disappeared.

Slowly Mallory pulled a small mirror out of his pocket and pressed himself against the corner of the intersection. He raised the small reflective tool out of the water and carefully slipped it around the edge of the sewer's wall.

A small, repetitive whir could be heard drifting down the intersecting tunnel. Second by second it menacingly grew louder.

From a secondary service tunnel about fifty yards down the tunnel a small, flying disk emerged. The device had an antenna sticking out of the top of it and several mechanical arm-devices hanging from its underbelly. Three of what Mallory assumed were cameras were mounted on the front of the flying gizmo.

The disc slowly guided itself down the middle of the tunnel. With an almost inaudible click a blue spotlight lit up from the device. Luckily the light didn't seem to want to fry his night vision goggles. The light swept back and forth across the passageway. Mallory didn't even dare retract the tiny mirror that was sticking out from the corner in fear the little robot disc would see the movement.

The searchlight panned back and forth for the longest of instants as the toy-sized robot moved within ten feet of the intersection.

Still hidden underwater, Mallory's index finger tightened around the trigger of his rifle. He would only have one shot. If he missed the robot would instantly send out an alarm that would bring down hundreds of ET soldiers into the sewers after them. Slowly he started to raise the barrel of his weapon.

He wasn't sure whether he would hit it with his first blast or whether the noise from his shot would alert other Imperials in the tunnels but he had to take the shot.

Just as the robot was about to reach the do-or-die spot Mallory had picked out for his attack it came to an abrupt halt. Mallory could hear the tiniest sounds of Imperial comm traffic coming from the robotic device that was a yard from his head.

With a click the blue light disappeared. The whirring noise increased as the robot flew rapidly back down the sewer, returning the way it came.

Mallory waited a long time before allowing himself to breathe again.

He started to stand up from his crouch when something rubbery slid by his leg. He reached down to brush whatever it was away but it was already gone. He looked over at his nearest squad mate, Private Wilhelm, but the Ranger was on his opposite side from whatever grazed him. There just was so much filth in the muck around him he couldn't form a clear picture of the mysterious object that he had only had contact with for a tiny instant. _It felt alive_, he thought, but he pushed the idea aside, not wanting to picture what could be down here with him.

He stood from his crouch and led the group around the corner. They were close to the infiltration spot. They were also close to zones the Imperials patrolled pretty regularly. Four hundred meters south of where the alien robot had disappeared Mallory found what they had been looking for, a rubble pile of crushed bricks and mortar that covered a rusty ladder embedded in the side of the sewers.

Mallory got his squad to move some of the larger pieces of debris that they had left behind as camouflage after their previous visit. Within a minute they had cleared enough space for a single soldier to climb the ladder and remove the manhole cover at the top. Mallory signaled for Private Wilhelm to take the lead. The young soldier scrambled up the ladder. As silently as he could Wilhelm pushed the heavy metal plate to the side.

Mallory could see stars in the sky through the opening. He wished he could take off his NVG and mask to feel the fresh, cool air above. Even full of smoke and ash it would be a welcome change from the fetid air of the sewer. Wilhelm heaved himself up and out of the hole. Everyone in the tunnel remained silent. Twenty seconds later a faint, "Clear." was heard from up above.

Mallory was the second Ranger out of the sewer. He pressed himself flat and crawled over to the prone figure of Private Wilhelm in the rubble pile ahead of him. Once he was in position he carefully scanned the surrounding area.

Burbank, as with the rest of Los Angeles, was a barren wasteland of craters and collapsed buildings. Smoke and the strong odor of unburied bodies wafted in the breeze to filter through his mask. Miles away in the darkness several gunshots rang out followed quickly by the familiar twanging sound of the ET's laser fire, indicated that the insurgency was alive and well inside occupied LA.

"Clear, clear." He whispered back at the man hole. Two Rangers climbed out. He flashed hand signals to where he wanted his men to deploy in overwatch positions. Within seconds they were set up and providing rear security for the hole. "Clear, Clear." Two more were on his flanks.

A moment later Cortez flopped down next to him. Private Wilhelm was now in charge of giving the all-clear signal to those below. "Clear, clear." Wilhelm whispered. Two more Rangers appeared.

Mallory looked around the infiltration spot. Mallory and his men had emerged along one side of the employee parking lot of the Bob Hope airport. Their cover was made up of several burned out and collapsed hangers mixed with several wrecks of small private planes. His squad's M60 machine gunner set up in a flattened Piper Cub that was missing its tail section.

Sergeant Cortez and members of 3rd Squad fanned out across the position. Their job on this mission was intel gathering. Each of the soldiers was equipped with long-range digital cameras and recording devices. Cortez snapped away at the well lit and elevated Highway 134 to the south. At this range Mallory could tell the highway was being patrolled by several platoons of ETs and even some of those bi-pedal chicken-walkers they used. The enemy had mounted several stadium quality flood lights along the roadway and kept it clear of debris.

"So it's true they are using the 134 as a major east-west supply route. Gonna be tough to get some IEDs up there." Cortez whispered. He snapped several pictures of a mountainous garrison building in the distance. Mallory noticed several 'H' fighters flying patrol above the structure while a few other aerial patrols could be seen high above the city.

A member of 3rd Squad had a camera with a huge telescopic lens that he aimed well to the south. His photographic target, was the area above LAX, which they couldn't see from their present location, due to the low-lying Hollywood Hills. Instead the 3rd squad Ranger snapped away at a large alien spacecraft that was on approach from orbit.

Next to where LAX should be was a towering structure with the appearance of a large satellite telescope. Mallory nudged Cortez. "I'm guessing that's got to be their Shield Generator." he whispered into his sergeant's ear. Cortez snapped away.

A six-man team of commandos slipped passed them and disappeared into the darkness. "Godspeed, Ranger." An English-accented voice whispered as they went past.

Thirty seconds later another team of four slipped past Mallory and Cortez. "Go fuck yourself, Army puke." came another whisper.

"Goddamn jarhead." Cortez chuckled. It was hard to hate the Marines. This wasn't exactly the type of duty many of them came back from.

Team after team of infiltrators disappeared into the darkness in several directions. None of them took the same path as any of the others. Within ten minutes all of the commandos and their explosives were gone.

Out of the west came a repetitive, metallic, clomping noise. Mallory glanced that way and saw four of the big camel-walkers they all knew so well. They were about half a mile away and he couldn't be sure, but it looked like they were exiting the highway and coming in their direction.

Cortez made a 'wrap-it-up' signal. One by one the Rangers above ground dropped back down the manhole cover. Cortez was the last man back inside the hole and he quietly replaced the cover just as the walkers arrived within the confines of the wrecked airport.

The platoon of Rangers waited in the darkness while the walkers passed by. Debris and muck rained down on the hapless Rangers as Cortez directed them to replace the camouflage over the ladder.

Cortez motioned for Mallory to take point again. With his NVGs Mallory slipped once more into a green world, a green world filled with slime and filth and nasty things that went bump in the night. If he was lucky he'd be able to take a cold, trickling shower three hours from now when they returned to the squad's bunker.

Mallory listened intently for the whirring noise that warned of the approach of the enemy scout robot he had seen earlier. Several times he halted the platoon, cocked his head and listened for distant sounds of warning. The only sound that reached his ears was the gentle dripping of water echoing through the tunnels.

But then . . . there was something else in the tunnel.

Something big splashed into the water ahead of them just out of range of his NVGs. Mallory halted the platoon. Each of them stood a still as a statue in thigh deep water. They pointed their weapons in every direction, scanning the darkness for the faintest sign of danger.

Mallory stared straight ahead, watching ripples come back towards the platoon from whatever had caused the splash. He concentrated on a small cluster of bubbles that were almost imperceptible ten yards ahead and to the left of his position.

His breath caught as a small periscope breached the water. Only this periscope wasn't man-made or a machine. It had an eye.

The eye swiveled back and forth for several seconds and appeared to be studying the Rangers. Then just as suddenly as it had emerged it silently vanished back into the water. Concentric ripples on the surface of the water were all that marked its existence.

For a second he wasn't sure if he could trust his eyes or if his NVGs were malfunctioning somehow. Mallory was a heartbeat from stepping forward and investigating the spot it had disappeared when Private Wilhelm screamed.

Mallory spun around in time to see the young Ranger disappear in a splash of water underneath the sewage. The two nearest Rangers quickly waded over to the spot where Wilhelm had vanished. They felt around with their arms and legs and prodded the water.

"Anything?" Cortez whispered from down the tunnel. Every man in the platoon was focused on the two men searching for their missing comrade.

"Nothing, Sarge. It's like he was never here." One of the men said.

Mallory swallowed a large lump in his throat. Despite the cool air of the sewers he started to sweat.

"Quickly, 5th and 2nd squads, spread out and find him. The rest of you form a perimeter on both ends of the tunnel." Cortez ordered. The Rangers moved into position.

Mallory felt something solid and rubbery brush by his leg. He started to turn in the direction of the disturbance when a large tentacle shot from the sewage like a rocket. Mallory let out a primal scream of terror as the other-worldly appendage wrapped itself around his waist.

Another tentacle emerged from the murky depths and entangled his left arm. Mallory fought against his surprise at the attack as he tried to free himself from the creature. His free hand still held his assault rifle but the creature was beneath him and to the left and he couldn't bring the weapon to bear on it.

He tried to kick at the creature, several times making contact with something solid yet pliable. In response the thing wrapped another tentacle around his left leg and Mallory felt himself start to fall forward towards the water. He knew that if he became submerged he was done for.

Cortez splashed through the muck and caught Mallory just as he fell forward. Another Ranger arrived and held onto him from the right side. Between the two of them they managed to keep Mallory on his feet.

Cortez unsheathed his bayonet and started hacking at the tentacle wrapped around Mallory's waist. A shrill, otherworldly scream rose from water. The tentacle unwrapped itself, pulling with it Cortez's bayonet firmly lodged in its skin. The wounded appendage flailed about the confines of the darkened tunnel, striking another Ranger who was rushing to their aide.

Cortez reached across to Mallory's load bearing vest and pulled free the strange, vibrating knife that Mallory had captured from an ET during the Battle for LA. The blade whirred in Cortez's hand as he sliced through the tentacle wrapped around Mallory's arm like he was slicing into warm butter. Within seconds the Sergeant had amputated the tentacle completely.

Another alien scream pierced the sewer as the creature rose to the surface. It most closely resembled an octopus, but one that had been beaten with several ugly sticks at once. Seven tentacles radiated from a pinkish body that housed a gaping, multi-fanged mouth. The periscopic eye locked its gaze on Mallory.

Cortez swung the whirring blade at the creature, which used its undamaged tentacles to push off of Mallory's chest and plunge back into the water. The sewage churned for a second in several directions before the creature vanished.

The Rangers stared in disbelief at the spot the monster had disappeared. The only sounds were their labored breaths.

Suddenly from behind the platoon a new noise filled the tunnel. Everyone spun toward the new disturbance and they were greeted by the sight of the flying probe robot.

Mallory was momentarily blinded as the alien disc shined its spotlight down the tunnel. The entire platoon of Rangers was illuminated in the glare. Immediately the device screeched in alarm. Mallory could hear Imperial commo traffic being transmitted from the robot scout.

Cortez raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger. Each bullet sounded like an artillery impact in the claustrophobic confines of the tunnel. Several sparking impacts flashed off of the metal hull of the small disc before a round caught it directly in its central camera lens.

The disc exploded with a smoky pop before it splashed into the water.

There was a moment of silence as the Rangers listened for the next sign of danger. It was nearly impossible to tell distance from sound alone underground, but somewhere not far away someone opened a creaking metal grate. This was followed seconds later by the sound of something heavy impacting the water, followed by another, and another.

"Fuck! Move it Rangers. Time to extract your butts." Cortez shouted, no longer even attempting noise discipline.

Fifty Rangers turned and obeyed their platoon sergeant. They splashed through the sewage as fast as they could. As he ran Mallory offered a momentary prayer to Private Wilhelm even though he knew that the Ranger was long gone by now. He didn't have time for grief now. He had to focus on saving the lives of the rest of his men.

Electrically amplified voices wafted down the sewers. With each passing moment their pursuers drew closer.

They finally reached the junction with the aqueduct. Already the squad of soldiers tasked with guarding the entrance had moved the civilian refugees inside the water-delivery tunnel. Half of the squad was in the process of moving the civies north while the remainder was readying the demo charges around the hatch.

The pair of MAARS robots swiveled their M202 FLASHs at the arriving Rangers but checked their fire at the friendlies. As soon as Cortez and Mallory moved past the sandbagged position one of the soldiers at the barricade put the robots into free-fire mode. Anyone following them would be instantly engaged by the two mechanical defenders.

"Figured we were compromised when I heard all the firing." The sergeant in charge of the guard force said.

"Roger that. Don't know how many but we could have the whole ET army on our ass." Cortez frantically waved at the Rangers at the hatch who started filing one by one through the entrance. "Don't wait for anything. Get the fuck north." he shouted at the men.

Splashing noises from the other side suggested that first Rangers were doing just that. Mallory hoped they were pushing those civilian refugees ahead of them. "How long are you giving the demo charges?" he asked.

"Four minutes." The sergeant replied as he fiddled with the timer. Everyone seemed to be moving too slow to Mallory, while the approaching ETs were coming on way too fast.

Mallory looked to where half the Rangers were already into the aqueduct. The approaching splashes from the sewer seemed to be right around the corner. The MAARS jerked back and forth as they attempted to lock onto unseen targets somewhere ahead of them. "Make it two."

"Doing it." The sergeant said. He vanished through the entrance as soon as he finished, making Cortez and Mallory the last men left in the sewer.

The two of them leaped into the hatch just as the first white-clad ET bounded into view. The roar of the M202s filled the sewer as the napalm-filled FLASH rockets engaged the new arrivals.

Mallory felt the heat from their impacts as he threw his weight into the heavy hatch along with Cortez. The door was achingly slow to close against the sounds of alien screams and phaser fire impacting on the MAARS that covered their retreat with their robotic lives.

Cortez dogged the hatch shut. "Go! Go! Go Mal!" he shouted.

The two of them attempted to sprint through the knee-deep, stagnant water in an effort to put as much distance between themselves and the hatch.

"Open the blast door! Open the blast door!" came muffled electronic voices from the other side.

They were almost a hundred meters from the hatch when a noise like two freight trains crashing together at full speed came from behind them. The shockwave from the blast hit Mallory with the force of a football linebacker.

Mallory felt himself be picked up and thrown forward through the air several yards before he splashed down on the floor of the aqueduct. He came up for air seconds later, spitting out what he hoped was drinking water. By the metallic taste it left in his mouth he feared it wasn't.

Cortez sat in the water next to him. His arms resting on his knees and water past his waist. His old sergeant was shining a flashlight back the way they had come and chuckling.

Mallory reached about for his NVGs and helmet that had been knocked free in the blast before looking towards what Cortez was laughing about. Behind them was a solid wall of concrete and debris from where the tunnel had collapsed in their wake. Rocks and a cascade of dirt still rained down from the top of the pile. There was no sign of their pursuers underneath the rubble.

"Mal, you alive?" Cortez asked.

"I'm not sure. You?"

"I'm not sure either." They both laughed. It was all they could do to stop themselves from crying.


	45. Yutu 4

**SigInt Level, Fleet HQ, Tarkin Tower, Culter City, Mars**

Several mouse droids scattered down the hallway ahead of the clicking sound of approaching boots. Two Imperial officers rounded a corner in a rush, the junior man straining to keep pace with his superior.

Captain Yutu, Director of Fleet Intelligence, was not a man with a lot of time to spare. He checked his datapad with irritation. The Emperor still hadn't relented on his latest request regarding the morning's interview. Didn't Yos realize that this wasn't about a simple enemy of the Empire but was about confronting a being that was diametrically opposed to the Empire itself? Someone who represented a body of government that had betrayed the Empire's trust and kidnapped the heir to the Empire. He sighed in frustration as he glanced at the blank screen.

The junior officer, Lieutenant Commander Knebler, held another datapad out in front of both of them. "We have a live recon feed over the tunnel that was discovered underneath Target East, sir."

Yutu slowed his pace as he took the device. On its screen were images of a large crevice cutting across the no-being's-land outside the captured city on Earth. The crevice ran from underneath the planetary shield to several kilometers north of the American siege lines drawn up around the city. Plasma and ion energy bursts erupted along its length.

"Two AT-AP batteries have been working the ground over since it was discovered this morning. Enemy anti-airspeeder missiles have prevented our bombers from suppressing the target from the air since Sol rose over Target East this morning. Scout troopers on the ground have confirmed that it is the remains of the Los Angeles Aqueduct." Knebler reported.

"How long have the scum been using it?" Yutu asked, not looking at the screen but instead handing it back to his aide and increasing his pace once more.

"We have no way of confirming actual times, but we did knock out the pumping stations during the first day of the war. The water would have dropped to a traversable level within a few hours."

"So they've been using it since we captured the city. There's probably no guessing as to how many of these so-called 'IEDs' they've smuggled in via this method. Speaking of which, what are today's contact reports inside Target East?" Yutu asked. He had read the report that the stormtroopers had engaged American troopers in the sewers beneath the city, but the stormtroopers involved had believed the earthlings were on their way out of the city when they had made contact with a Prowler probot. They must have already escorted more infiltration teams to sites within the occupied zone.

"Six landspeeder bombs in the last four hours. One of which dropped a span of an overpass over the I-10 Interstate. As you know this was the most important east-west supply route we were using inside the city. It was assumed by ground commanders to be secured." Knebler stated.

"I'm finding it harder and harder to assume anything about the abos. Six in four hours, that's a sharp rise in activity. Put out an alert that more saboteurs were likely smuggled into the occupied zone."

"Yes, sir. We also have a report of a sniper near LZ-LAX."

"All groundcrew on Earth wear the required armor the Army issues, do they not? We have reports of a dozen new slugthrower snipers every day."

"Yes, sir. This barve however was using an anti-material slugthrower. He engaged and damaged seven binary-loadlifters. Several scout trooper units are sweeping the area for him."

"These earthlings are proving to be decidedly innovative pests, aren't they?" _More along the lines of stubborn banthas bred with womp rats_, he thought, but that's giving too much credit to either of those two species, "How much did that hurt us?"

"The Imperial cargo vessel _Manacle_ has been delayed in its off-loading procedures. Ground crew estimate a delay of twenty-four hours until they can get more loadlifters freed up from other landing pads. No telling if that sniper is just waiting for more of the droids to show up or not."

"Troubling. Droids are too kriffing expensive. I take it reprisals are taking place?"

"Yes, for the landspeeder bombs. Two stormtroopers were killed and eighteen more were wounded."

"So several hundred more captives will have to be taken. It's a shame we're not shipping them up here for Operation _Piper_ but Clone Admiral Bacara's got our boys-in-white' hands full in the Pacific. What are the final casualty counts for last night's sewer skirmish?"

"Twelve dead due to the tunnel's collapse. Three more stormtroopers injured with severe burns. The abos used that sticky petroleum jelly of theirs down there."

"Fierfek. We ought to lean on Moff Kuat to develop something like that for our own forces in the field. Any other new developments on Earth?"

"Reports of an acoustic weapon being deployed against Target East this morning. Focalized sound waves being transmitted directly at some of our Observation Posts. The stormtroopers in the area report that the device is annoying but otherwise harmless. SPHA-T have been engaging the weapon whenever one pops up in the American lines."

"It could be similar to that Chinese microwave weapon they tried out on us a few days ago. They almost fried an AT-AT crew in their walker before our men detected the threat. Every day brings something new with them, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir. In the Pacific Region, Admiral Bacara continues to take outlying islands in the nation of. . . oh what was this one called. . . Indonesia. But he has been sending inquiries to our shop about a Japanese build-up of airspeeders to his north as well as an Australian one to his south. He reports that naval and land forces under Indonesian, Phillipine and Malaysian control have diminished to a negligible threat level in his theater of operations."

"He should be directing his concerns to the Theater Commander." Yutu said. Ahead of them stood a large durasteel door flanked by a pair of Imperial Marines.

"He has, sir. Moff Seco has waved off the Admiral's concerns as unfounded. He states that the beings of Earth will surrender any moment and that all Imperial forces on Earth should proceed with the courage of the Emperor in their heart, or some other nonsense." Knebler replied.

"Seco doesn't have a strategic bone in his body. He's been twiddling his thumbs waiting for the Earth's surrender for a month now. I wish someone would punch up some coordinates in his hyperdrive to get him off his _shebs."_

"Moff Seco has been requesting updates on the pursuit of 'Elimination Targets'. He told me this morning by hyperwave that the capture or assassination of several key figures in the Earth's leadership is all that's standing in the way of a final Imperial victory."

"Yeah, that and four to six billion kriffing abo survivors who want to see us dead. Tell him we hope to have a breakthrough soon with the hunt for the NAU president. Are we making any headway with their internet computer web?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we've had technicians all the way up to grade nine pouring over what's left of it. They report that due to the Navy's bombardment of the major hubs and servers and counter-espionage efforts on the part of the Terrans that it has been degraded to nothing more than a collection of strange pictures of fellinx and pornography." Murp got a strange blush on his face, "A disturbing amount of pornography. Um, they are not expecting another major intelligence windfall through that source any time soon."

"That is unfortunate, but to be expected. It's not as if it was as secure as our HoloNet. Now I have another appointment. That is all." Yutu dismissed his subordinate.

"Yes, sir." The two officers saluted each other before Knebler returned to his own duties.

Yutu faced the two marines standing at perfect attention before bringing their arms up in salute. He stood at the entrance for a moment and collected his thoughts. He hated face to face interrogations and longed to be back in the SigInt station of the headquarters dealing with earthlings at a sterile distance of millions of kilometers. But he hated not having answers even more. Yutu returned the salute and removed one of his code cylinders from his uniform. He placed the small device in the electronic door lock and turned it. The door slid open with a swish.

The room was occupied by two other figures. One, who was dressed in gray and blue Mandolorian armor, stood menacingly along the wall. The female bounty hunter nodded at his presence but stayed otherwise silent. Yutu noted the large blaster she carried, and the fact that she was the only one armed at this meeting.

The other being in the room was a female as well. She sat in a chair at a durasteel table in the center of the interrogation chamber. She was a near-human earthling woman in her mid-forties who still wore what appeared to be some kind of sleepwear covered by a white fluffy robe. Yutu knew from reports that the woman and her younglings had been captured sometime after rising in the morning. Evidently she hadn't been given anything new to wear since her arrival here on Mars.

The near-human looked him up and down with a careful and calculating gaze, as if he were a logic puzzle she was determined to solve. "Well you have more of those squares on your chest than anyone else I've seen since you people abducted me. So you must be someone important." Though not from a noble bloodline she certainly spoke with a royal tone in her voice. Yutu recognized an inquesitive mind when he saw it in another being and made a mental note to treat this prisoner with care, lest he reveal too much.

Yutu took a seat across from the captive and placed a small HoloImager in the center of the table. The prisoner sucked in her breath in fear of the unfamiliar device. "My name is Captain Lando Yutu of the Imperial Navy. Before we get started I am ordered by the Emperor to show you this."

Yutu leaned forward again and activated the gadget. A blue-hued image of Emperor Yos jumped up from the HoloImager. The image was a recording that had been shown to the beings of the Martian Empire on the HoloNews this morning, shortly after it had been learned that the VIB captive was on her way.

Emperor Yos's voice filled the chamber. "It is not our desire to lower ourselves to the inhuman levels of our enemy. Whereas the beings of Earth would freely debase themselves by torturing my daughter and your Princess, we cannot lose sight of what we are by reciprocating those actions on an innocent woman. Jill Harris and her younglings may be the family of our adversary on Earth but she is not our enemy. As such, the 'Presidentress' of the North American Union shall be held here on Mars as a guest of the Empire until cessation of hostilities between our two worlds comes to pass."

"Since the days of Palpatine the Empire has always stood for benevolence, justice and peace. It is our enemy who has brought this war. . ." Yutu clicked the device off.

"It goes on from there, _Presidentress."_ Yutu admitted.

"If you are going to let me retain my freedom and title then you might as well use the correct one. I am Jill Harris, First Lady of the North American Union."

"Wordy, but a tad more elegant, I believe."

"Speaking of which, if I am to have my freedom I would like to see my children." the First Lady requested.

"In due time. I would like to ask you a few questions first."

The earthling looked him straight in the eyes for a long moment. He could tell she was wrestling with what must have appeared a Hutt's Bargain. "It was my understanding that I was to be treated as a guest. So far this person," she indicated the bounty hunter behind her, "has stood guard over me as if I were a death row inmate ever since my arrival. And this feels very much like a military interrogation instead of the greeting of a guest."

Yutu winced. Just half an hour before this meeting he had asked for permission to interrogate the prisoner with the efficiency not seen since_ Tarkin's Fist_ had escaped the reach of the ISB. He had even ordered a pair of IT-O interrogator droids to stand-by in case they were needed. Unfortunately the royal family had over-ruled his methods in favor of a public relations victory on the HoloNet. Didn't Emperor Yos know the Empire was at war with these beings?

"You are mistaken. This is not an interrogation. This is a simple discussion. When I am satisfied that you pose no threat to the Empire this discussion will be concluded and guards will escort you to the Martian Imperial Palace, where your younglings are currently being held under the protection of the Royal Family."

"How do I know they are safe?" She asked.

Yutu sighed. Reaching forward again he activated another icon on the device. Instantly an image of two small boys at play emerged from the HoloImage. A pair of Imperial Guardsmen stood nearby while a female Rodian nanny was teaching the younglings how to play gulliball.

Yutu met the First Lady's eyes for a second and noted the tears forming at their edges. "This is a live image. I understand they have been asking for you."

She tore her eyes away from the image and looked him in the face again. "I will answer your questions, but I will not betray the people of the North American Union. I must also warn you that I am not a military commander or anything of the sort. I can't reveal any secrets I don't know."

He sighed, hoping she would be more complacent at the sight of her younglings. "I am aware of your role in your government's hierarchy. At the moment I fear I know more about your nation's military capabilities than you do. That is not why I am here today."

"OK."

"I'm not familiar with that term?" It sounded like some nonsense a sun stroked Gungan would utter.

"OK? It means alright." She looked surprised she had to explain this to him.

"You see. We are already learning from one another." He offered her his most charming smile. She remained impassive. "First things first: where is your husband, First Lady Harris?"

The corner of her mouth curled into a slight grin as if she had been expecting the question. Yutu hated being predictable. "He's in Canada." she gave the well-rehearsed response.

"I very much doubt that. What if I were to tell you that he's in the American southwest, possibly Arizona, or Sonora, Mexico?" His own teams of CommScan technicians had been picking up short-wave radio bursts from the President for weeks and had been following his public speech transmissions from several sources. Even though they were released several days after the President vacated an area, the pattern certainly showed a southwesterly direction of travel.

"If he is, then he is." The First Lady sounded uninterested and absentmindedly stared at the walls. "His place is with the citizens of the North American Union. I'm sure there was a security reason I wasn't informed about his whereabouts."

"And yet you have stuck by this tale that he was in Canada."

"It sounded logical. We vacationed there once before we lived in the White House. It's one of our fondest memories."

Yutu wasn't sure if she was telling the truth. An IT-O droid would have picked up on the subtle nuances a prisoner gave off when telling a lie. He wished the Royal Family wasn't binding his hands.

"How have you maintained contact with your husband since the initiation of hostilities?" he asked.

"You mean since your unlawful invasion of my planet?"

"Unlawful? Your planet drew first blood with the attack on the _Insertion_. Your own nation kidnapped and tortured the Chief Ambassador of _Tarkin's Fist_. Should we extend the same kindness to you?" He didn't want to draw this out into an argument over legalities and moralities.

She glared but her overall expression remained unchanged. "We maintained contact through a series of couriers, usually small, private aircraft or land vehicles. Most of the messages were several days old by the time they reached me and my children."

"You see, that wasn't so hard." Yutu made a note to monitor small airspeeder traffic more closely in the NAU, though he feared that that could become a monumental task for some of his technicians. The Americans were determined to move as much as they could from their east coast to the west coast to battle the Imperial Army inside of Target East. Even reported fuel shortages weren't slowing them down.

He felt that she wasn't hiding anything more about her husband's whereabouts. If he had been President Harris he surely would have kept his spouse in the dark about his movements as well. "Perhaps we should talk of other things?"

"It's your show." She responded.

"Footage from your planet's news sources showing you visiting several refugee camps has been intercepted by my electronic warfare troopers."

"Yes?" It was evident she was trying to figure out where he was going with this. "Those poor people have lost everything. Blown out of their homes by the guns of your space navy. Many of them have lost family and loved ones . . ."

"A necessity that could have been avoided had your husband and the leaders of other nations agreed to the terms laid down by the Chief Ambassador." He hoped that by mentioning Phasma again and again that he could keep the threat of torture hanging in the room. "Tell me, what is the current mood of your subjects?"

"They're not subjects, they're citizens and innocent victims of the war the Empire has inflicted upon us."

"Innocent? The North American Union claims to be a democracy does it not?"

"Yes."

"Then how could any citizen of a democracy not be held guilty for the actions of the leaders they elected into office. We of the Empire were raised in the democracy of the Old Republic, a democracy that brought us the chaos of the Clone Wars. Only the strong lead us now. Giving the lower classes a say in government is like allowing the mynocks to peck at the thrantas. Through the grace of the Force we move at the Emperor's will."

"It sounds like you've got all the indoctrination down pat."

She didn't know how wrong she was. He had been attending the Imperial Academy on Prefsbelt IV when Palpatine had become Emperor and it had been Palpatine's lackeys in the ISB, Imperials spying on Imperials, the Imperialization of everything, the nepotism of the Moff Council and the Emperor, and the reliance upon political prisoners as slaves that had driven him to place his loyalties with Grand Moff Tarkin years ago. He was suddenly amazed at how many of the things he had come to hate about the Old Empire that he had readily grabbed a hold of for the new Martian one. He hid the realization from his face but made a mental note to think about what it meant later. "One day the citizens of Earth will be part of the Empire. Now could you give me an idea as to how soon the citizens of your country will surrender?"

First Lady Harris visibly flinched as if he had struck her, the first time she had let her obviously practiced persona crack and true emotion show through. "Surrender?"

"Yes, capitulation. This has been standard practice since the surrender of the Separatist Holdouts after the end of the Clone War. Once a Star Destroyer of the Imperial Navy shows up in your orbital space you yield to the wishes of the Empire. Yet your planet chose to fight when four Sector Fleets arrived in your local system. This shows either great hubris or great ignorance on your part."

"You'll find Earthlings have a long history of doing the right thing even in the face of overwhelming odds. Surrender will never be an option for them."

"Surely you must have a breaking point? Our initial bombardment of your planet reduced your population by as much as a sixth or even a fifth of its total. Our most conservative estimate is a further die-off of a fourth of your world's population due to the environmental effects of the war even if you end the war now. What kind of society could sustain those types of losses?"

"A society that has time and time again taken a long road to defeat its adversaries. Our wars are fought over the course of years, not decided upon by a single battle or threats from above. You want to know the mood of the people in the camps? It is one of stubbornness, of resilience, one of hope and faith that victory will one day come. Since your arrival in our system the first time I have heard the word surrender mentioned was in this very conversation." Her speech grew more impassioned the more she spoke of the beings of her home world.

"Would total conquest or annihilation be preferable?" he asked. Annihilation had already been discussed at the highest levels and dismissed because the Earthlings hadn't been seen as a credible threat. Conquest was still being debated but Yutu doubted the Martian Empire had the manpower to pull off a sustained occupation of the entire world. Not that he was about to share this with the First Lady.

"Occupy us and you will face a thousand knives at your back. You cannot imagine the cost of holding our world."

She may be right, he told himself. The rebellion inside both of the Target cities grew everyday despite reprisals, so did the death toll amongst the Stormtrooper Corps. "When the younglings of Earth begin to starve or grow sick they may think otherwise."

"You think so? When I visited the camps outside of Chicago I saw hundreds of parents concerned that you had stolen their children's childhood away from them, yet I saw thousands of kids at play. Games where they played at beating the bad guys, and the bad guys were always the Empire." He sensed a warning in her words. It had been hoped that after an Imperial victory the Earth would join the Empire as a member state in a generation or two. If what she said was true then the next few Imperial generations were going to have to fight just to keep the Earth subjugated. It would be like the seventeen wars of the Alsakan Conflicts all over again.

She continued, "Those refugees are going back to work as well. Millions of them are going back to work in the fields and factories. The army is combing the ranks of the civilians for new recruits. Every day we grow a little stronger."

"As does the Empire. We now have our first colony on Earth 2 and the vanguard of our fleet is on an exploratory mission beyond the local system. As we speak more colonists are preparing to spread the Empire throughout the Milky Way. When the war is over you will be paroled back to your world. It is our hope that you tell your beings that they may join us among the stars or be left behind in the dustbin of galactic history."

"As a conquered race? As second-class citizens of a monarchy that holds no regards to their rights? I think not. The Earth will fight and struggle for its own rightful place among the stars."

Yutu snorted at the thought of primitive Earthlings reaching the stars. _Tarkin's Fist_ had stopped them at Mars and he hoped that was the furthest the local near-humans would ever endeavor on their own.

"Surely you must see some benefit to our rule. When we arrived in your system your planet was already in dire hyperlanes. Overpopulation was crippling you, water tables were falling, soil was eroding, glaciers were melting and fish stocks were vanishing. When we came onto the scene here in the Sol System almost two billion beings were at starvation levels across your world every day. We have with us the preeminent terraformer of the Galactic Empire within our ranks. We could have helped heal your world if you had but let us."

"That help was offered at the point of a gun. What you really mean is that once we had taken a knee to your Emperor, Earth would have been remade into a planet suitable for the Empire."

"Indeed. The Earth would do well as an agriworld or Ordnance/Regional Depot for the Empire. Your proximity to the new capital here on Mars would leave you in a highly advantageous position over the course of the coming decades or centuries."

"And I know that Earth will excel on its own."

"Then I fail to see what else I can gain from this meeting." She had given him a lot to think about and some of it had frustrated him and some had made him examine the Empire's role in this new Galaxy. "You have no inkling as to where your husband may be cowering and you continue to persist with the false hope that Earth will never surrender, is that so?"

"It is."

"Indeed. Then are there any inquiries you have before I set you at your liberty?" he asked, eager to get away from the nonsensical thinking of the Earthling. Then he realized her thinking wasn't nonsensical, his own propaganda machine had forced his mind to consider the near-humans to be so much less than what the First Lady was exhibiting.

"I am to be paroled at the end of hostilities, correct?"

"That is so. The Emperor does not want to seem barbaric and vengeful to the beings of Mars. Except for the location of your husband the military sees no reason to interrogate you." He lied. He could think of a thousand things he wanted to ask her, starting with everything she knew of her husband's policies and ways of thinking and ending with what would make him break. "I, for one, wanted to move you and your younglings to the camp we have set up here on Mars for earthling captives but I was over-ruled. It seems you are to be a permanent guest of the Royal family until your release."

"I'm to stay with this Emperor Yos of yours?"

"Actually the request comes through the offices of the Heir Presumptive to the Empire, Princess Phasma." Jill Harris sucked in a sharp breath at that revelation. No doubt she knew that the Princess had undergone interrogation and torture at the hands of troopers under her husband's command. "Your twin boys are already in her care."

"Will I be able to visit this camp of yours? The one with the people from Earth? I would like to see them for myself, to assure myself that they are receiving decent humanitarian care while in your hands."

Yutu could see several reasons why that wouldn't be advantageous to the Empire. First of all, the captives weren't receiving a high level of care, but one more along the lines of Kessel or Desparye prisoners. They barely received enough caloric intake to stay alive every day. Second, the Smiley Spice they had been giving the prisoners upon arrival had been a disappointment, only affecting two out of every three prisoners. Revolts and executions in the camp were still everyday occurrences. And lastly, she would one day be allowed to return to Earth. The captives in Camp 1138 wouldn't be offered that opportunity. Yutu saw no benefit in letting her get a glimpse of life in the camps.

"At this time it wouldn't be prudent. We await the surrender of your nation on an hourly basis. Your husband could surrender the North American Union any moment and then you would be whisked away, back to your primitive world."

"I see." By her tone he could tell she knew he was considering something. "Will I be given freedom of travel within this city, um, what is its name?"

"Culter City."

"Yes, if I'm allowed my leave how will I know I will be safe?"

"There are a number of citizens within the city that would wish you harm. Families of those killed in the war or the attack on the _Insertion_ last year, perhaps. The Royal family will assure that you are well protected. Also so that you do not embarrass yourself or your home world too badly I have been instructed to assign you this." Yutu pushed a small button on the table. The door to the chamber swished open.

A golden protocol droid walked into the room. It bowed to Yutu and then turned to the First Lady. It greeted her in an effeminate tone, "Greetings, I am C-3PX, human-cyborg relations. I am at your service, my Lady."

The first lady raised an eyebrow to Yutu out of curiosity. "A robot is going to be my guide to the Empire?"

"I assure you madame, not only am I fluent in over six million forms of communication, including all known languages of Earth, but I am well-versed in both of our societies' protocols and social customs. I am completely at your service." The droid responded as if it had truly been offended.

"I suddenly feel like Dorothy with her very own Tin Man. It's quite evident I'm not in Kansas anymore." She said. Yutu was momentarily confused by the expression before writing it off as a simple Earthling colloquialism. When he had more time he would have to search for its meaning.

"Indeed. C-3PX and the guards outside will return you to your younglings." he said as he started to stand, effectively ending the interview.

"This one isn't coming with us, is she?" The First Lady pointed a thumb at the bounty hunter behind her.

"No. I'm done with her." The Mandolorian, Nichole Felk, spoke for the first time since he had entered the room. The bounty hunter brushed past the prisoner, weaved between Yutu and the droid and then vanished through the open door.

"Evidently she's done with you." Yutu replied when the bounty hunter was gone. Hopefully the Mandolorian was on her way to resume her hunt for the President of the North American Union. "Good day, Madame."

Yutu saluted and left the room. He wondered why he had done that. As an enemy she surely didn't deserve the honor, yet how she had displayed more nobility during their meeting than a lot of so-called royals he had met in the Home Galaxy.

First Lieutenant Murp awaited him in the hallway as the guards led the First Lady away. The junior officer had a grim look on his face.

"What new catastrophes have broken out since I was in there?" He checked his chromo. "By the Emperor, I was only away for twenty minutes. Have we lost the war?" He joked as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the younger man.

Murp gave back a nervous smile. "Two new crises have broken out since you left SigInt, sir."

"Well what are they?" Yutu sighed, resigning himself to more bad news from a war that was already much longer and more complicated than it needed to be.

"The first is from Earth. Seems someone was able to sneak a submersible into missile range of the planetary shield of Target West."

"So what? The shields have withstood much stronger attacks."

"Yes, but this time they hit the shield with half a dozen missiles loaded with another EMP class of weapon. The weapon wasn't like anything they've used in the past. In fact, it more closely resembled our ion weapon signatures from our attack last year." Murp reported.

Yutu slowed his pace as he thought that over. It seemed the Earthlings were learning from Imperial technology much quicker than expected. "Damages?"

"Power loss of twenty-three percent for an estimated three quarters of an hour, sir. The Chinese Terrans haven't launched any attacks to take advantage of the shield's momentary handicap."

"No, they wouldn't, would they. They can tell the shield is still there. How was the submersible able to get in so close? Shouldn't our radiation detectors have picked up their reactor's signature? I was under the impression that we had hunted down the last of these pests?"

"That's just it, sir. Our best guess is they used an older model submarine. Possibly a boat that utilizes a petrol-turbine of some sort, probably diesel petroleum."

"Has the craft been captured?"

No, sir. It . . . um . . . seems to have escaped."

"E chu ta! What kind of war is Moff Seco running down there? Notify Captain Dual to extend the AT-AT swimmers guarding the approaches to both Target cities to extend their picket line to seven hundred kilometers. Then comm Moff Kuat and place an order for several hundred more sonar mapper buoys to be delivered to our naval forces on Earth."

"It shall be done, Captain."

The first report didn't seem so bad. The Earthlings were advancing technologically but not a single trooper was hurt in their attack. But if things continued to progress as-is, how long that would continue to be the case was anyone's guess.

"What else do you have to report, Lieutenant?"

"Just this, sir." The junior officer handed him a datapad with a medical report. Yutu scanned down the lists and numbers that were given to him.

"How many cases?" He asked.

"Two guards and a Bothian data entry clerk for the camp. Initial investigation has come up with seven prisoners with similar symptoms. All of the aboriginal near-humans were under the effect of Smiler Spice and hadn't reported any sickness or discomfort to camp authorities. They just stood there and smiled while their insides liquefied."

"No, they wouldn't have said a stang thing, would they? Of all the ones for the Smiler Spice to get its hooks into."

"We only discovered it when the guards reported to the medics this morning. The Warden reported that he is implementing his most strict quarantine protocols inside the camp."

"That's good. Inform him that he is to destroy all the beings in the contaminated barracks immediately, regardless of infection. Where did we pick up the infected prisoners?"

"They came in from a batch Marshal Commander Cody and the 212th picked up in Target Papua New Guinea two days ago. They passed screening on Luna Base and were transferred here last night. If the Palace hears about this there will be heads to roll. Emperor Yos has been adamant about preventing disease contamination from Earth's population." Murp said.

"Fierfek. Order all work parties to return to Camp 1138 at once. Keep the guards away from the general population and withdraw them to the perimeter of the camp. Let the medical and DeCon droids screen for the disease. Contact Captain Dual and Admiral Bacara and suspend Operation _Piper_ again until we head this kriffing development off."

"Yes, sir. It'll be rough on the droids, sir, without the guards' protection but they'll manage."

"By the Emperor, I thought it would be one of those devious little sexually transmitted diseases of theirs that broke out first. What is this one called again?"

"Ebola, Sir."


	46. SF4738 4

**Rancho Cucamonga, Upper California, NAU, Earth**

SF-4738's eyes skittered one way and then the next, settling with an intense glare on anything that looked out of place or different from the last time 3rd Platoon went on patrol in this sector.

One last patrol, he reminded himself, and then the platoon was slated for a full two weeks out of the line and back in the relative safety of the rear in one of the local garrisons that rose above Target East like imposing Massassi pyramids.

He couldn't wait to get out of the entrenchments the Imperial Engineers had dug along the edge of the planetary shield. The abos kept flinging gas projectiles across no-being's-land, causing the stormtroopers to spend most of their time in the barely air-tight bunkers along the frontline.

When the American army across no-beings-land had discovered that their slugs couldn't penetrate the energy shield protecting Target East they had been forced to try new avenues of approach. One of them was mortar shells filled with gas projectiles. The simple weapon was flung across the territory separating the two armies, where it would detonate upon impact with the shield. Since the shield had to let air into the city chemical weapons had no trouble penetrating the defense.

In their trenches and even in their sealed, supposedly air-tight bunkers the stormtroopers were forced to live in their armor for weeks at a time. Eating, sleeping, and relieving oneself were tedious at best. Maintaining one's hygiene was near impossible. The lethal gas wasn't so bad as long as you kept your bucket and body glove on, but after four weeks of being trapped in his armor SF-4738 was starting to smell like the north end of a south bound Gundark.

The rest of the platoon wasn't in much better shape. At the moment they were spread out in a double line formation along what he hoped was East 8th street. He wasn't sure because it was kriffing difficult to tell what passed for roadway and what used to be buildings in the flattened city. Debris and rubble covered the landscape as far as his eyes could see.

He moved carefully over pockmarked, broken ground, over which the stench of death still hung in the air like the stench of a wet wookiee. He knew from experience that the smell would only get worse as the day heated up.

A pair of TIE Maulers kept pace with the platoon. They were there to provide heavy fire support if the platoon came up against anything tougher than a few rebel abos with slugthrowers.

The platoon was taking it slow even though their leave was looming large before them. The stormtroopers were spread well apart along the road, and SF-4738 kept an eye on them, prepared to chew out any troopers that started to bunch up. They hunched over at the waist as they darted from one rubble pile to the next. No reason to give a rebel sniper a clear shot, he thought, as he performed the same maneuver.

Several small younglings watched the platoon pass by with hate-filled eyes. "E chu ta. We'll have to fight them in a generation won't we?" Lieutenant Mahan, sporting an orange pauldron marking him as an officer, observed from several meters away.

"Probably, Loot. And their offspring the generation after that. They don't seem in a hurry to surrender, do they?" SF-4738 never took his eyes off the kids. One of them bent low and picked up a rock. Instantly the Platoon Sergeant pointed his blaster in the youngling's face. "Don't do it." he warned.

The abo youngling's expression turned meek, as if saying the thought of chucking a stone at the passing patrol had never occurred to the little barve. He dropped the rock.

"Hey you, come here." Mahan waved at one of the urchins. SF-4738 looked to see which one his platoon leader was indicating. When none of them moved he pulled out an MPET from the pouch on his belt. All the youngling's faces lit up at the prospect of food.

"Please, Mister ET, I'm so hungry." one of them said.

"I want some." another begged.

"Which one did you want to see, sir?" SF-4738 asked.

"That little blonde girl. Come here, sweetie." Mahan asked the youngling in question. SF-4738 threw the meal to the other beggars and watched as they wrestled each other in the roadway for the food.

The little girl stood in front of the officer as he bent at the knees to look her in the face. "Sarge, call up the medic."

SF-4738 made a hand gesture down the column of troopers, within seconds the platoon's field medic was trotting forward at a crouch. The trooper slid to a stop across loose gravel at the Lieutenant's side. SF-4738 kept one eye on the surrounding rubble while the halted platoon took up covering positions.

He glanced over at the small being in front of Mahan. She wasn't much to look at. Her dirty hair was matted together and her clothes were filthy and torn. Her face was horrifying though, covered in pus-oozing sores, and her ears and nose showed signs of gangrene.

"Don't get too close to her, sir." The medic warned. The trooper donned disposable, microsensory mesh gloves over his power gloves. He grabbed the little girl who tried to pull away. Several of the other younglings moved forward but SF-4738 pointed his E-11 blaster in their direction which stopped them in their tracks.

The medic pulled out a hypo-syringe and took a quick blood sample from the girl. Before she could pull away he shot her with a bacta injection as well. The girl yelped. Mahan gave her his own MPET before the medic released her. She sprinted away as fast as her small legs could carry her, disappearing over a small rubble pile in nothing flat.

"Hope that bacta helps her." The field medic observed.

"What do you think it was, corpsman?" Mahan asked.

"Could be a host of local maladies, sir. This planet sure is full of them, but if I had to guess it sure as fierfek looked like the Festering Plague." The trooper said. "The rest of those urchins probably have it on some level as well."

SF-4738 whistled. Festering Plague was an awful malady that usually affected industrial worlds back in the Home Galaxy. On large ecumenopolises like Denon, Humbarine, Nar Shaddaa, or hell, even Imperial Center, there was always a case of the 'Uncle Fester' going around somewhere. Completely curable if you got medical attention in time and knew the right combination of drugs and spice to take. Though death was the usual outcome, it didn't always have to be fatal. Societies that were constantly exposed to it built up somewhat of an immunity to it over the millennia. SF-4738 wondered if Earth was a virgin field for the epidemic. If it was the disease would spread kriffing fast. He sighed and hoped the little girl could shake off the poodoo malady. The bacta should help a bit.

SF-4738 walked back into the middle of the two columns and signaled his point men HF-3105 and JN-6166 to move out. "Alright you scum, the Emperor isn't paying you to sit on your _shebs_ all day. Let's get moving."

"Move carefully troopers. We don't want any accidents before we get our leave. Too much stang flimsiplast work whenever one of you gets his head shot off." Lieutenant Mahan encouraged the stormtroopers as they continued their advance through the crushed neighborhood.

SF-4738's eyes flicked now this way, now that.

He didn't see a single piece of rock or that cheap local 'concrete' that was bigger than a meter squared. The Empire had expanded a lot of bombs and tibanna on this place. "We captured the living poodoo out of this Los Angeles." he whispered to himself.

Some civilians came out of their holes or makeshift shelters to watch the platoon pass. 3rd Platoon wasn't ushering any prisoners along with them so the abos must have decided they weren't in their neighborhood looking for reprisals. SF-4738 had been on several patrols like that already. It wasn't a lot of fun. They fight every time, despite what the laser-brained Theater Commander had said about their being ready for surrender.

Other stormtroopers kept chivvying the emerging abos away from the platoon. Most of the civilians were women. SF-4738 felt no more compassion for them than he would if they were men. Plenty of these women picked up a slugthrower or a grenade and fought alongside the rebels during the night. A lot of them made damn fine snipers, too.

To emphasize his point a trio of corpses hung from a pole once used for local electrical service. SF-4738 had seen them all across the city. This was one of the few that survived the battle. The bodies were of two males and the other a young teenage girl. Around their necks hung signs in both aurabesh and the local alternate basic. Two of the signs read _I shot at stormtroopers_, while one of the males' signs was inscribed with _I rigged a landspeeder bomb_.

The bodies had been up there for a few days. The Empire had made it clear that there would be more reprisals if anyone cut the corpses down during the night and so far no one had risked it. 3rd Platoon had already passed a dozen similarly gruesome warnings on their patrol.

Up ahead the two pointmen halted the platoon. Both of the troopers signaled in SF-4738's direction. With Lieutenant Mahan at his side he trotted to the front of the column.

He was greeted by the sight of a large mud and water filled ditch that hadn't been on this route yesterday. Brick and pipes stuck out of the banks of the trench.

"Looks like a cave in, Sarge." HF-6166 observed. "There is a path over the middle a few meters over there." The trooper pointed at a raised section of bricks and concrete that stood slightly above the murky water.

"Collapsed sewer. Engineers have been imploding them as fast as they can find them." Mahan said. It made sense to SF-4738 ever since the abos had been caught sneaking bombs and infiltrators into the city last week.

"Looks like it, Loot. I don't trust that crossing though. Too obvious. If I was an abo sapper I'd have the thing frakkin lined with mines." SF-4738 said.

"E chu ta. This is going to slow us down. Trooper, get down there and check out that crossing." Mahan ordered HF-3105.

The trooper slid down the muddy side of the collapsed trench. HF-3105 played it safe and kept his distance from the makeshift bridge. "Sir, I can see something round and metallic under some of the bricks on the crossing. I can just make out some wires as well." the trooper reported.

"Fierfek. It'll be several hours before we can get some bombtroopers up here to clear this." Mahan sighed.

"Doesn't have to be, Loot. Get back up here, 3105." SF-4738 ordered. The trooper scrambled back up the side of the trench. JN-6166 helped his friend up once he reached the top. "You boys got your thermal detonators?" he asked.

They both nodded. If they didn't he would have had their _shebs_. "Good, everyone get down flat." He motioned for the rest of the platoon to do so as well. Along the column stormtroopers took whatever cover they could or laid flat in the roadway. A few of them took shelter behind the TIE Maulers idling at the back of the column.

"Alright troopers. Aim for the crossing." He told them.

Both troopers armed their explosives and flung them into the trench. "Blast in the hole!" JN-6166 yelled.

SF-4738 counted off a few seconds before two loud explosions rose from the trench. A pair of muddy geysers erupted from the collapsed sewer and rained down on the prone platoon.

"I don't think we got it." Mahan said.

"Care to give a go, Loot?" SF-4738 asked.

"I will if you will, Sarge." the young officer replied.

SF-4738 keyed in the code on his on thermal detonator, cocked his arm, and then whipped it forward toward the trench. Before he put his head back down in the dirt he noted he beat Mahan's toss by a few seconds.

Boom! A small detonation came from the sewer. More muddy water shot into the air.

Wham! A huge eruption tore though the trench. Twenty meters away from the edge, SF-4738 was lifted off the ground a few centimeters and then slammed back down again. Water, dirt, and mud rained down over the patrol and even the watching civilians finally took cover from the falling debris.

"I think you got it, Loot." SF-4738 called out.

"I'd say so." Mahan coughed. "Knocked the air out of me."

"You astral, sir?" HF-3106 asked.

"Yeah, get back on point and get us out of here."

"You heard the Lieutenant. Move your _shebs._" SF-4738 barked.

The two stormtroopers slid back down into the trench. The small causeway was gone; broken up and sunk by the force of the explosive booby trap. The troopers splashed through the thigh deep water and climbed up the other side.

SF-4738 followed them. Once he was on the other side he shouted encouragement to the rest of the platoon as they sloshed two by two through the muck. The two TIE Maulers further churned the sides of the collapsed sewer to pieces as their treads bit into the muddy soil. Their ion engines roared and their tracks spun clumps of mud into the air behind them.

Lieutenant Mahan waved and laughed from the top of the first Mauler as it rolled past SF-4738. The veteran Platoon Sergeant smirked. He couldn't begrudge the young officer taking an opportunity to avoid climbing through the stink of the stagnant sewer. He just wished he had thought of it first.

The platoon continued its patrol. More abos came out to watch them pass. SF-4738 didn't trust them. They were about as slippery as a greased Dug in his mind. Any second one of them could pull out a hold-out slugthrower and start blasting. He'd already seen them do it on half a dozen patrols out of the front lines. So far, excluding the exploding sewer trap, this patrol had been quiet.

A half-kilometer from the sewer crossing 3rd Platoon came across a roadblock. Heavy duracrete barriers blocked the road and several squads of stormtroopers prevented anyone from passing. SF-4738 noted a pair of menacing, heavy E-Webs aimed at distant abos sitting amongst the rubble, watching the stormtroopers.

SF-4738 approached a stormtrooper sergeant that seemed to be in charge of the barricade. "What's going on here? This wasn't up yesterday."

"Sorry Sergeant. Can't let you past. Street ahead is wired with what the abos call Improvised Explosive Devices." The sergeant manning the roadblock warned.

Lieutenant Mahan strolled up to the two NCOs in time to hear that bit of data. "How bad, Sergeant?"

"Another patrol with akk dogs stumbled across it around sun up. The abos got a little fancy here, sir. They've set up at least forty of their 150mm artillery slugs all wired together in a BlueBlossom formation. Could have taken out a whole platoon if it hadn't been found."

"How's it set to detonate?" SF-4738 asked.

"Couldn't tell you. Been waiting for the bomb troopers to show up. They're supposed to be bringing up some astromech droids to diffuse the bombs. Been about three hours so far." The sergeant shrugged. SF-4738 understood the apathy. In the Imperial Army a stormtrooper's life was filled with long periods of standing around and waiting for something else to happen.

"We'll have to go around, Sir." SF-4738 said. "What are the roadways to the north and south like?" He asked the sergeant.

"Couldn't tell you. We've been stuck here all morning."

"They should be clear, Sarge. The abos packed a lot of ordnance into this trap of theirs hoping to pick off a whole space cruiser full of stormtroopers." Mahan assumed.

"Or they're funneling us into some other area where they can more easily ambush us, sir." SF-4738 said. After more than a month dirtside he had given up underestimating the tricky abos long ago.

Mahan contemplated his warning for quite a while, before finally responding, "I don't see any other way, Sarge. We've got to get this patrol underway again. I say we move south, closer to the main supply route on the I-10. That way if there's an ambush we're closer to backup."

"Yes, sir." SF-4738 turned and gave the hand signal for 3rd Platoon to get back on their feet and in formation. HF-3105 and JN-6166 took the lead again as the platoon moved south.

Once again SF-4738's eyes flitted rapidly from one side to the other.

They didn't run into an ambush on what passed for a roadway to their south. Instead they came across another platoon moving in the opposite direction. This one seemed to be shepherding several dozen landspeeder bomb reprisal prisoners.

The captive natives all wore stun collars and were shackled together in a long line. A few stormtroopers with force pikes ran herd on the group while the rest of their platoon provided cover with their blasters. The prisoners looked dirty and bloodied. Several of them sported bandages or had dried blood splotched on their clothes. There seemed to be an even mix of genders, and to the being they all carried hate in their eyes.

Another abo, an old man, shouted from a nearby rubble pile. "Shame!" and let fly with an object.

For a second SF-4738 thought the object aimed at the other platoon was a thermal detonator of some sort. Like many of the stormtroopers around him he flung himself to the ground before his mind registered it was nothing more than a stone.

The hurled projectile slammed into the helmet of a First Lieutenant leading the other platoon. The assaulted officer spun around at his attacker. He pointed and several stormtroopers scrambled into the rubble after the miscreant. The old man didn't even try to escape but stood on the top of his trash heap like he was king of the world, daring the Imperial troopers to come and get him.

The arriving stormtroopers soon taught him that he wasn't. With the butts of their blasters they beat and kicked him into the ground. The beating went on for several minutes until the broken and battered shell of what was once a man toppled from his perch.

The stormtroopers returned to their positions in their formation as the Lieutenant walked over to the old man's body and delivered a noodle into the man's forehead with his own E-11. "Teach you to throw rocks at me, scum." SF-4738 heard the officer utter.

The two platoons trudged once more in opposite directions. SF-4738 gave a courteous nod to the Platoon Sergeant at the head of the other formation. The NCO returned the gesture as he ordered his prisoners to make way for the passage of SF-4738's pair of wide TIE Maulers.

Mahan slipped into step alongside of SF-4738 as they left the other platoon in their wake. "Doesn't seem right, what they're going to do with those poor beings." The young officer observed.

"What, you mean blasting them? You're probably right, sir. It won't stop the other abos from blasting at us or setting off their kriffing landspeeder bombs whenever they feel like it. Stang, it only seems to encourage them." SF-4738 never looked away from the horizon as he continued to search for possible ambushes.

"We ought to be shipping them up to Mars like they're doing out in the Pacific. That way we can at least get some work out of them before they're used up."

"Won't happen, Sir. Scuttlebutt is Moff Seco is in charge of clearing out the Target cities the way he sees fit. He's got nothing going for him on Mars so every prisoner he ships up their just helps out his Moff rivals, um. . . Kuat and that other guy." SF-4738 said.

"Moff Culter, for the Emperor's sake, Sarge. The capital is named after him."

"I don't pay much attention to politics, Loot. Before the 'big jump' the only politics a stormie like me cared about was Palpatine anyways."

"Hmm, there's a lot more to pay attention to these days." Mahan said wistfully. SF-4738 wondered if there was something he was missing. He got his orders and he followed them no matter who ran things. The only thing that mattered to him was 3rd Platoon.

"I think we've gone far enough today, sir. We might want to start thinking about heading back." The platoon sergeant changed the subject to matters at hand.

"Sounds good, Sarge. Turn them around."

SF-4738 motioned for the pointmen to stop and change direction. With a flick of his eyelid he activated the global positioning icon on the HUD inside his bucket. Relayed from orbiting TIE/WAC craft several routes appeared on his imager. He picked out what appeared to be the safest one and sent the directions to the troopers in his platoon. Within seconds they were moving in another direction.

SF-4738 could smell the front lines before he could see them. Several small wisps of chemical gas wafted over them like early morning ground fog. Chemical detectors in his helmet pinged alarms as they got closer. He ignored them. He had been living in the gas for four weeks now. SF-4738 thought of the scraggly beard he had grown under his helmet and longed for that first trip to the refreshers once he got to the safety of the garrison complexes.

As they passed the first checkpoint that led into the Imperial field fortifications SF-4738 spotted hundreds of figures along the tops of the trenches. Armed with shovels and pickaxes the abos dug the Imperial Army's entrenchments for the price of a MPET a day. The work they did kept them away from the reprisal platoons as well. They all wore rebreathers over their faces, preferring the local styles of the protective gear because it covered their entire face instead of just the nose and mouth like the Imperial model.

Clearly visible to the American army across the empty expanse, the workers were a safety measure that had so far prevented the local abos from throwing anything deadlier at the stormtroopers. SF-4738 had heard from several of the workers that had dug his platoon's subterranean bunkers that the Americans had some rather nasty nerve agents in their arsenal.

The workers usually didn't give the stormtroopers any trouble, preferring to work for food than fight against the Imperial troops that would surely land on them like a ton of bricks if they tried anything. It was getting close to sun down and long lines of workers were filing out of the entrenchments with their 'Meals Prepared for Empire Troopers' allotments. High command had been sensible in ordering all abos out of the trenches at night after hundreds of them had used the opportunity to escape across no-beings-land.

The trenches themselves zigged and zagged through the smashed blocks leading to the front line. 3rd Platoon passed bunkers, artillery dugouts and ammo dumps by the hundreds as they closed on their destination. Their mood lightened as they neared their promised leave.

The trenches were crowded as the Imperial Army waited. SF-4738 had no idea why they sat there and let the enemy build up across from them like they did. But the Theater Commander had ordered them to hold in place and so they did. The Platoon Sergeant wished they were advancing to force a surrender from the stubborn earthlings. The quicker they did that the quicker they left this frakking mudball of a world.

They reached their firebays without any trouble. SF-4738 had his corporals do a quick count of his troopers. When everyone was accounted for he addressed them. "You kriffing larkers have ten minutes to grab your gear and get your _shebs_ back in formation. I've got ten full days of sitting on mine ahead of me and I'll leave any one of you barves behind that is stoopa enough to make me late for the transports. You got that?"

"We got that, Sergeant!" 3rd Platoon yelled.

"Good. Dismissed!"

The stormtroopers of 3rd Platoon scattered in every direction. They ducked into the individual squad bunkers and grabbed their gear. The troopers in charge of the heavy weapons dismantled the platoon's E-Webs and carried them back to formation with them. To a man the stormtroopers were back in formation within eight minutes, carrying everything they owned inside the SD-48 Survival Rucks on their backs.

A platoon of Sand Troopers took their place in their firebay as 3rd Platoon filed out into the communication trenches that led back to the Main Supply Route at the head of the I-10 Interstate.

Light was fading fast as they made it to their destination: an assembly area just inside of the first checkpoints. As was often the case in the army, the RTT transports that were to carry them back to the garrison complex were late. Someone, somewhere, had screwed up.

SF-4738 dismissed his troopers to relax while they waited in the relatively safe assembly area. A few shattered skeletons of landspeeders along the roadway made him nervous but he had been assured that they were given a thorough going over by Bomb Troopers on a daily basis. The last thing 3rd Platoon needed was a landspeeder bomb this close to leave.

Abo workers were still filing out of the entrenchments to whatever shelter they had in the city. Several abos came close and mixed with the stormtroopers in his platoon and the ones manning the checkpoint. Several other platoons were returning from their patrols within the city. Just as high command wanted all abos out of the Imperial entrenchments after dark, they wanted all stormtroopers out of the earthling neighborhoods during that time as well. Los Angeles after dark was a nasty place for both sides.

The abos who approached were mainly the sort who wanted to barter for food. Several of the females tried to sell a basic service that he was sure some of his boys were tempted to take them up on. Regulations and punishments for fraternizing with an Earth female ranged from strict to extremely severe. The scrawny females didn't get any takers from his platoon. He would have knocked some buckets together if they had.

Some of the earthlings tried to sell aurodium jewelry and what appeared to be human teeth made of aurodium. SF-4738 didn't ask any of them where they got those. Several of his troopers exchanged small amounts of food for jewelry embedded with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies. They brushed aside earthlings trying to peddle worthless diamond jewelry that the abos seemed to prefer. Diamonds were much too common in the galaxy to have enough value for jewelry. Evidently the abos didn't think so.

A few more squads going on leave arrived from the trenches and milled about the assembly zone. Some of them bunched up around the earthling traders to see what they were bartering for food. SF-4738 wasn't interested in the minor loot and instead wandered over to a group of several other NCOs and junior officers with Lieutenant Mahan in tow. He made sure he stood where he could keep an eye on his own troopers just in case any of them started to embarrass the good name of 3rd Platoon.

SF-4738 didn't know what it was that made him notice the female abo who walked towards the group of stormtroopers. Maybe it was the fact that she was a woman. She wore a baggy dress that went all the way down to her ankles, whereas most of the ones he had seen lately wore pants made of some strange denim and carried slugthrowers and wanted to kill him. He always tried to return the favor the best way he knew how.

No, it wasn't her dress that drew his eye, and not her good looks either, though she wasn't half bad. It was the absolute hatred and resolution written in her shining eyes. An alarm started screaming in his head. He nudged Lieutenant Mahan and pointed. "Loot, something's wrong with that piffer."

"Yeah?" Mahan didn't see it for a moment. Then he did. "Yeah." He took a step toward her and started to take another one. . .

And the world exploded.

Next thing SF-4738 knew he was on his back. Something ran into his eyes and stung. He put up a gloved hand under his bucket and discovered it was blood. He was bleeding from one of his arms too. He looked around. HF-3105, somehow, was still on his feet and didn't seem to be scratched. JN-6166 was down and moaning, both hands pressed to a scarlet stain on his belly.

"She blew herself up!" The words seemed to come from a million kilometers away. SF-4738 realized the bomb must have stunned his ears. He hoped they weren't fierfeked for good.

He scrambled to his feet. Closer to the female, who wasn't there anymore, of course, the landscape was a surreal mess of bodies and body parts. How many had she killed? How many had she hurt? SF-4738 watched a stormtrooper pull a nail out of his arm. He realized the female hadn't just carried explosives. She had shrapnel, too. She'd done what she'd done on purpose, and she made kriffing sure she did as much damage as she could when she did it

"You all right, Sarge?" HF-3105's voice came from far, far away.

"If I'm not, I'll worry about it later." SF-4738 said. "We've got to do what we can for these poor scum."

He bent beside JN-6166 and gave him a shot of bacta. He might have wasted it. JN-6166 was going gray. He put a grav-press on the trooper's wound, but blood soaked through right away. "Medic!" HF-3105 shouted. But a dozen other stormtroopers were shouting the same thing. And no field medics seemed to be close by. Who would have thought trouble would have struck _here_?

Nobody would have. Nobody had. And that was probably why it had happened here. The troopers waiting for the RTTs hadn't paid the abo female any attention, until it was too late.

HF-3105 went on in disbelieving tones. "She blew herself up. She kriffing blew herself up. She kriffing blew herself up on purpose."

"She sure as poodoo did." SF-4738 liked that idea no better than the trooper did. "How do you stop a being who wants to make like a bomb?"

"I don't know, Sarge. Who would have thought any being could be that crazy?'

"Abos," But even SF-4738 realized there was more to it than that. He shivered, "A piffer. She waited till she could hurt the most stormtroopers, and then she did."

"Fierfek." HF-3105 muttered. "She could've done that anywhere. How can we stop that?"

SF-4738 had no idea. Troopers with the green medic rings on their armor finally arrived. They got JN-6166 on a repulsor stretcher and carried him away. He was still breathing but SF-4738 didn't think he'd live. Even if he did he'd be out of the war for weeks, maybe even for good.

Bodies and pieces of bodies remained after all the wounded were taken away. So did the butcher shop stench of blood in the air. SF-4738 walked over to where the female had been standing. He found a charred and torn shoe that wasn't Imperial issue. But for that, there was no sign she'd ever existed, except the carnage all around. "Fierfek." he whispered reverently.

The RTTs showed up eventually. SF-4738 thought the waiting stormtroopers were going to lynch the drivers for being late. An officer formed a perimeter to prevent any more unseen bombers from blowing themselves up and had troopers seize any remaining abos in the area. SF-4738 didn't give them much of a chance of surviving until morning. Reprisals were going to be hell on the local population after this, he thought.

The unwounded and the walking wounded got on the Reconnaissance Troop Transports and headed back to the Imperial Garrison Complex. _What the frak can I do to stop that from happening to my boys again?_ SF-4738 thought.

He had no idea.

He hoped somebody did.


	47. Phasma 4

**Imperial Martian Academy, Margaritifer Terra, Imperial Mars**

"Being Bombs." The professor of the Imperial Command and Control course repeated to the lecture hall.

The ludicrous earthling tactic had become a heated topic of debate over the past couple of days. The HoloNews had reported dozens of attacks with the new weapon in both Target cities on Earth, each one more dramatic and riveting than the last. Troopers carrying out Operation _Piper_ in the Pacific were even reporting that the tactic had made an appearance on the scattered islands they were capturing.

Almost unknown in the Home Galaxy the concept of deliberately blowing oneself up to kill your enemies was practically an alien concept to the beings of the Empire. There had been scattered examples of overwhelmed forces fighting against suicidal odds and blowing up their own positions during the Clone Wars and both sides had deployed suicidal fighters during the conflict, but those had been piloted by droids.

This was something altogether different.

A few hands rose around the room. The professor, a Klatooinian naval officer from the ISD _Purgatory,_ called on a Kuati cadet.

"Sir, perhaps we should raise the numbers of reprisals in response to these attacks. Surely the threat of executions would deter their deployment against our forces?" The cadet asked.

"One would think so. However, this hasn't been the case over the past week. Reprisals are now at one hundred executions for every stormtrooper killed in both cities and fifty for every bomb, whether landspeeder or Being Bomb, that is aimed at Imperial troopers. Reports from the field are that this has only increased the number of attacks in the last few days."

Phasma Yos, Princess of the Empire, sat in her seat and wondered what that implied. If the number of attacks were going up then so was the number of casualties. That was evident to anyone who watched the HoloNews news cycle. _But how do we fight beings who are willing to kill themselves to hurt us_?

She raised her hand. She was one amongst many students in the room who did so but she already knew what would happen.

The Klatooinian called on her. By far the youngest student in the room, she stood out amongst the crowd for other reasons, as well. Her 2nd Lieutenant rank was higher than the ranks of the cadets around her, but her role as Heir to the Empire also set her apart and sometimes alienated her from her peers. She had a feeling it was the latter part that made him call on her every time she raised her hand and she tried to ignore the jealous glances from her classmates as she asked. "Are the earthlings still being allowed to work on construction of our front line entrenchments within both Target cities?"

"From what I understand that practice has been put on hiatus until this wave of Being Bombs passes." The Professor answered.

Phasma didn't think the attacks were a passing fad on the part of the earthlings. They had found a weapon that worked and they weren't going to let it slip to the wayside anytime soon. "The beings working for us were doing so for foodstuffs, correct?" She asked.

"That was my understanding. The beings still inside the cities are cut off from the rest of their world. This was the only program that doled out food in those areas."

"So, by cutting them off from any visible source of food, don't you think we may have created even more Being Bombs?"

"You may be correct, Your Highness." She tried not to wince at the use of her title. Every time it was used it just made it that much harder for her to be seen as a normal cadet by her peers. "Unfortunately the Theater Commander, Moff Seco, doesn't see it that way. During the first day of these new attack methods the earthlings deployed four Being Bombs within our front lines. I understand a heavily fortified anti-hovertank bunker was even destroyed along with its heavy turbolaser. The enemy cannot be allowed to strike at us like this."

"So who will build our fortifications?" A Mon Cal cadet asked the professor.

"For the time being stormtroopers are tasked with preparing their own entrenchments as well as their normal duties. I understand that more construction droids are being manufactured here on Mars for deployment to Earth." The Klatooinian explained.

Phasma's hand shot up again once more just one among many. Again she was the one the Professor called on. "Why don't we advance out of the city? If our army was on the move they wouldn't have to continue to dig in. It would also be much harder for these Being Bombs to hit a moving target, would it not?"

"That could be. We are advancing in their Pacific region. I believe Moff Seco is awaiting the surrender of Earth's military forces once they see they have no hope of dislodging us from our hold on their world."

Phasma thought that was moronic. She was fully versed in the methods of the Tarkin Doctrine of rule and conquest through fear. For millennia war had been based on the notion that you wanted to hurt the other side without getting hurt yourself. Now the rules had shifted like sand around a Sarlacc Pit. After everything the Empire had done to the enemy's world she felt they still didn't truly fear the Empire. With all the commotion these new weapons stirred up, she realized it was the Empire that may one day fear the Earth. How could you stop someone who embraced death instead of fleeing it?

"Fanatics." She whispered under her breath, though she wasn't sure she was talking about the beings that blew themselves up or the officers here on Mars who clung to the old rules of war.

Classes soon let out for the day and Phasma was whisked back to the palace by her private shuttle and guard force. The holographic Imperial Martian Banners outside the Palace indicated that her father was in residence when her shuttle settled down inside the royal palace's armored landing bay.

When she asked the palace's majordomo where the Emperor was at the moment the servant informed her that her father was located in the newly constructed Royal Planetarium of the palace. Phasma made her way there at a crisp march that would have made the drill instructors at the Academy proud. Palace servants and droids scurried out of her path.

The Planetarium was located adjacent to the Royal Martian Gardens her father had emphasized the construction of the observatory over the past few months as he spent more and more of his time dedicated to the exploration and colonization of the strange new galaxy they had found themselves in after the 'big jump'.

She entered the chamber and was greeted by several bowing, white-uniformed Imperial Science Officers. She avoided eye contact with all of them but observed how they nodded politely as she passed. The room was centered around a massive repulsor pad that lifted several bronzium replicas of the planetary bodies in the local Sol System. Better known here on Mars as Earth 1 through Earth 8. Five large holoprojectors were situated around the room showing various astrocartography maps of nearby star systems. The walls were adorned with several tapestries depicting the worlds that had been left behind in the Home Galaxy.

She noticed one of the holoprojectors was showing the subspace progress of the exploratory vessel _StarGate_ as it made its way out of the Kuiper Belt's Oort cloud of asteroids that surrounded this system. Within the next year it should reach Epsilon Eridani and the colonization site of a planet known to be located there. Twilik clones were slated for the planet, as she recalled.

Her father was standing near the repulsor pad playing host to several beings with that far-away look that spacers get in their eyes. She was mildly surprised at her father's attire. He wore black slacks with a loose fitting blue tunic and a blue cape as if he was some trumped up Baron Administrator of some Outer Rim gas mining colony. She stifled a giggle at how silly her father looked.

"Ah, Jawa! So glad you could make it." Her father exclaimed as she entered the room. "Ladies and Gentlebeings, I present my daughter, Princess Phasma." He said in the rare happenstance one of them didn't recognize her from the HoloNews.

Every being in the room, whether human or alien, bowed or took a knee in reverence to her position. She still wasn't used to all the attention that her father insisted on lavishing upon her since their rise to the top of Martian society. She fought aside the urge to blush.

"Greetings, Father." She came to him and placed a daughterly kiss upon his cheek.

"Jawa. . ." he began, then suddenly seemed to remember how much she hated his pet nickname for her, corrected himself, ". . . Phasma, these beings are hyperspace scouts and astrocartographists from the Space Ministry. They are here with the news of several new hyperlanes that lead outside of the Sol System."

One of the beings, a Lutrillian, spoke for the rest. "We followed the path the _StarGate_ blazed and mapped many new routes out of the local system. With hypermatter becoming available in the next few months outside of the military's hands our scouts should be able to reach the exploratory vessel before it reaches its first goal at Episilon Eridani."

Her father interrupted, "That isn't even the most exciting news, Phasma. I used some of the first deliveries of hypermatter to power several hundred probot viper droids over the past few weeks and ordered them to make blind hyperjumps outside of this system. Even though we lost upwards of ninety-five percent of the droids the Space Ministry has confirmed that we may have mapped a stable hyperlane out of the Orion Spur and linked up with the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy."

"Um . . . that is exciting news, Father." Phasma managed to hide how much she couldn't care less about her Father's announcement.

"Think of the possibilities. A century from now your Empire could have a hundred colonies stretching across two spiral arms of this galaxy. It would be a prime position for the future conquest of this galaxy's Core Worlds and Deep Core regions."

Phasma wondered if there would even be an Empire in a hundred years. "Have we found signs of intelligent societies that may prove themselves ripe for conquest or trade opportunities?" She asked the room.

The spacers and explorers of the Space Ministry tried not to look her in the eye. Her Father answered. "It is perplexing, but so far this local Galaxy is seemingly devoid of life as far as we've discovered. Though to be fair we haven't reached a planet outside of the local system yet. It should be only a matter of time before we come across other sentient life."

"What of Earth. We discovered intelligent life there. Also, speaking of conquest, we are still dealing with a neighboring enemy that refuses to surrender." Phasma said.

"I have been briefed by Moff Seco and he assures me that everything is well in hand on Earth." her Father assured her.

Was her Father so far-sighted that he couldn't see trouble that was right in front of his face? "What about these new weapons and tactics they're employing against us?"

"This Ebola Virus? Nefarious disease. The Martian Medical Corps is maintaining the quarantine of the camps for the time being but it is unfortunately slowing down hypermatter production. Their latest theory is that it wasn't even a deliberate biological weapon but an accidental cross-contamination."

"I wasn't referring to the Ebola outbreak. So far there have only been thirty confirmed cases and four fatalities that anyone knows of." She hoped it was contained anyhow, from what she had overheard at the Academy no one knew for sure. "I'm talking about the Being Bombs the earthlings are deploying on Earth."

"Oh, those dreadful things. More a nuisance than a topic of concern. They don't affect manufacturing here on Mars and on Earth their usage is diminished every time one goes off. It's not like one can blow themselves up twice."

Phasma scrunched her forehead in frustration at the ridicolousness of her Father's statement. "But they can always get more recruits for the weapons. It's not like it's hard for them to find beings who hate us enough."

"Enough. I see no reason for worry. I trust that Moff Seco has things under control. He assured me several hours ago during a briefing at Tarkin's Tower that their surrender is imminent. Then we will no longer have a rival for the colonization of this galaxy. The Empire will rule supreme, mark my words."

She silently bristled that her father wasn't taking events on Earth seriously. Maybe if an Earthling came to Mars and blew up her father's precious star charts he would be forced to give the matter the attention it deserved. She silently laughed at the absurdity of the thought. A free-roaming earthling in Culter City would stick out like a Hutt.

"Moff Seco is here?"

"For the evening. He is conducting Fleet business within the headquarters today. I understand his shuttle will return to the _Wilderness_ tomorrow."

Phasma instantly made up her mind to speak face to face with the Theater Commander herself. While the Emperor could dream about the future of the Empire somebody had to see to the problems that beset it on all sides in the here and now. Her Father didn't seem to be the sort that saw what must be done for the good of the beings. She wondered if she got that trait from her cloned mother.

"Well, Father, I will let you get back to your star charts and hyperspace routes. The Empire you are planning for us will certainly be grand enough to rival the 1st Galactic Empire one day." Her father beamed at her optimism, completely oblivious to the irritation that had slipped into her voice.

"Will I see you at dinner?" He asked.

"Of course." She responded with a sigh, her demeanor once more that of the dutiful daughter. She leaned up and gave him another peck on the cheek. The beings in the room bowed again as she departed. She hardly noticed her surroundings as she left the planetarium with a pair of blue Imperial Guardsmen following in her wake.

She hid her frustration with her Father well as she exited the building in a huff. As she passed through the gardens of the Palace she noticed several beings watching a pair of younglings. The younglings were playing a game of nuna-ball with an aurodium-plated protocol droid upon the large span of balmgrass that had been specially grown for the palace grounds.

Curiosity drew her closer to the beings, who looked up at her approach. She realized with a start she was advancing on the enemy. Ignoring the youngling boys she greeted the younger of the two females watching them.

"Good afternoon, First Lady Harris." Phasma said.

"Good afternoon, Princess." Her few dealings with the First Lady of the North American Union had been guarded at best. They both didn't seem to know what to make of the other so far.

Jill Harris was fiercely protective of her offspring and had hinted that she expected to be tortured out of revenge or spite on any given day. On the other hand, Phasma had expected her to be exactly like Sarah, the cruel earthling who had interrogated her during her captivity on Earth. The earthling Phasma had murdered out of revenge.

"Princess Phasma, may I present Dr. James McCoy and his wife Tonya, of Earth." Jill Harris made the introductions of the two beings that accompanied her. All three of them were dressed in newly purchased robes from some of the better shops along the Avenue of the Empress Teta's Fields. She knew exactly which boutiques they had come from because she had picked up their tabs.

"How do you do? Not the Dejah Thoris I was expecting." the doctor said just before his wife elbowed him in the side. Phasma didn't get the reference but inferred from his wife's reaction that the Earth physician was being crude.

"James, please, this is certainly not Barsoom. I must say, your Highness, I was pleasantly surprised to find a pair of earthlings living in your society. Talking with them has made my captivity much easier." Jill said.

Phasma studied the elderly pair of near-humans. She remembered that the doctor had been captured on the Earth's moon after the attack on the _Insertion_ last year. Upon coming to Mars he had shared his knowledge of several procedures, including a new way to deliver infants that had drastically cut down on fatalities in childbirth amongst mothers and newborns. In fact it had set off somewhat of a baby boom amongst most of the alien species living on Mars.

As a reward he had been granted his freedom and had asked that his wife be retrieved from his home world as well. The woman had been abducted from her home by a special forces team of storm commandos, but she seemed to be settling into Imperial society nicely despite being under protective house arrest for the duration of the war.

"I wish you wouldn't call it that. My Father, the Emperor, made it quite clear that you are a guest of the Empire." Phasma told the older woman.

"Then may I, as your guest, tour the camps where the prisoners of war are being held?" Jill challenged.

Tonya McCoy gasped. "Why would you want to do that, my dear? My husband has been there helping the Martian Medical Corps with this outbreak of Ebola they're having. He's said it is simply like something out of the Holocaust."

Dr. McCoy piped in, "Quite true, though from what I saw it is more along the lines of a labor camp or a gulag than a Nazi death camp. Either way the place stunk of decay and necrosis. The oddest thing I've seen is that so many of the captives seem to be happy about it, smiling away as they toil or drop."

Phasma was shocked by their description. The Empire must appear strong yet just, she thought. They had left an Empire that was ruled with fear and hate and she had hoped that her Father had started something different out here. She wondered how much he even knew about what was happening in the camps, considering his only concern lately was spreading the iron fist of the New Empire throughout this new galaxy.

"I am sorry, but for the time being that is forbidden for you. Especially with this outbreak happening." Phasma reasoned, carefully concealing her disquiet over this revelation.

"The outbreak is not as bad as your government is making it out to be. I have been assisting the medical professionals here on Mars with the victims. This morning they quarantined their fortieth patient and have lost only four to the malady so far. It is far from the pandemic they are claiming, though I have expressed concern that none of the patients I have seen are earthlings. If this has broken out in the camp then surely there would be dozens of victims there who should be quarantined as well. From the doctors I've spoken with in the Martian Medical Corps I've learned there have already been other small outbreaks of typhoid, dysentery, and trachoma, all diseases they were familiar with and were able to cure amongst the prisoners in the camp."

Cured? Incinerated is more likely, Phasma thought, knowing full well that any of the slaves who came down with this new plague were being destroyed as soon as they displayed symptoms. Earth diseases scared the poodoo out of the citizens of Mars and they weren't playing around when it came to containing any outbreak. She wondered what would the Earth think of epidemics like the nerf-pox, Blue-Shadow Virus, or the Corellian mumps. "Do you suspect that the outbreak will subside soon, Doctor?"

"It's likely. Outbreaks of Ebola have never been that large on Earth. Whether that is because they usually take place in the most rural of locations or the disease burns through its victims so quickly, I don't know. So far, no person or being, as you folks say, unconnected with your camp has come down with it and your Empire's medical techniques in cell penetrating peptides and antisense narcotics mixed with this bacta and 'spice' of yours has had amazing results. We may see a few more fatalities but I think the danger has passed."

"By the Emperor, I hope it is so." Phasma said.

"How many more carriers are showing up in the new arrivals from Earth?" Jill Harris asked the doctor.

"None. The camp administration informed me that no new 'labor units', as he called them, were to be delivered to Mars until the epidemic has run its course. I don't know why though. These Imperials seem to be well equipped to identify the virus and their retrovirus technology and antisepsis fields are simply out of this world." McCoy answered. "Hell, I hate to admit it but they've got surgical robots around here that could operate circles around me."

Phasma bristled at her Father's evident overreaction to the outbreak of the Earth disease. While historically fatal to its carriers, the Martian Medical Corps had acted swiftly in lessening the danger this Ebola posed, even amongst the slave population in the camps. A foolish embargo on new labor units coming to Mars meant that manufacturing and production for the war effort would slow again.

It seemed everywhere she looked she saw stagnation. "That is astral news indeed, Doctor McCoy. I, for one, am glad that you were here on Mars to assist us."

"It is the code I live by. I cannot refuse aid to any 'beings' who are ill or injured."

"An honorable code. We once had a religious sect whose members believed something akin to that. They were called the Jedi. I believe some of them were healers as well." Phasma explained.

"Well then, it's unfortunate that there are none of them here on Mars for me to meet." McCoy said.

"Indeed. If you would excuse me, I have pressing concerns I need to attend to." Phasma attempted to turn away from the earthlings.

"Excuse me, Princess Phasma." Jill Harris stopped her.

"Yes?"

"As you know . . . Well, since I am technically under your protection I was wondering if I might spend some time with you. I was hoping we could get to know each other a bit better." Jill Harris offered. A hopeful grin played across the First Lady's face.

"Attempting to pursue a little espionage during your stay?" Phasma asked, wondering if she wanted the earthling around.

"Possibly." Jill Harris's grin widened. "Or perhaps I believe in keeping my friends close and my enemies closer."

Phasma chuckled at the odd earthling turn of phrase. Jill Harris was surprisingly honest and Phasma found it an admirable quality sorely lacking in many of the people who surrounded her of late. Perhaps, she thought, it would be interesting to get the earthling's perspective on her meeting with the Theater Commander. She was wary of revealing too much of the Empire's inner workings to a future adversary but if there was a chance that the benefits could outweigh the costs . . . "Alright, you may accompany me on my errands but leave your younglings here at the palace. I don't need them underfoot and slowing me down."

"We'd be happy to babysit." Tonya McCoy offered.

"I would be happy to assist in monitoring the well-being of young masters Cameron and Griffon in your absence, My Lady." The protocol droid offered from the yard.

"Domo arigato, Mr Roboto." Which caused the McCoys to giggle. "I'm sure the Princess and I won't be gone all evening. Will we?" Jill Harris asked.

"No. I will be taking dinner with my Father this evening here within the Palace. I intend to return before then."

"Splendid." The First Lady hugged and kissed her younglings and told them to behave themselves for the McCoys and the protocol droid before she followed along with Phasma towards the landing bay of the royal residence.

Phasma studied the earthling out of the corner of her eye as they boarded her personal _Theta_-class T-2c shuttle. The older woman certainly carried herself with the poise and bearing of a queen. Without a doubt she must be an inspiration to her beings. It was little wonder that the First Lady had been prohibited from visiting the concentration camp of earthling prisoners. Phasma suspected that even those ones in the grip of Smiley Spice would have risen up against the Empire if Jill Harris said the slightest word.

Phasma knew she was loved by her own beings on Mars. She heard cheers and shouts whenever she went into public. But their private thoughts were another matter altogether. Did her beings truly believe in her and would they follow her one day as her Father had foretold? The young Princess had her doubts.

An Imperial Guardsmen showed Jill Harris to her seat across from Phasma. Phasma watched as the earthling gracefully took her seat and how she held herself with complete self-assurance. The Princess found herself imitating every gesture the other woman made. There was something in the movements, the bearing, that Phasma found calming. She wanted to know where that came from.

"How are you enjoying your stay here on Mars so far?" Phasma timidly asked.

"It has been a trial, I assure you. I should be elated that I'm on another world, yet my heart and mind are with my people back on Earth. Especially in this time of crisis that your Empire has thrust upon us. I am worried for all of my people that I left behind." Jill Harris replied. Phasma admired that the First Lady showed concern for her world full of beings, most of whom Jill had never met and never would. Then Phasma shook herself and realized that she had been baited and raised to the imagined challenge, as eager to defend her people as Jill was to defend the earthlings.

Phasma was raised on a Star Destroyer where obedience and loyalty were all that mattered. She wouldn't back down from any one that was allegedly supposed to be her subordinate without a fight. But now she was being confronted with a completely different worldview and rather than react to it with mistrust like so many other Imperials, Phasma alone had the unique vantage point of being able to understand the enemy and learn from the enemy without having to set foot on an actual battlefield. She truly wanted to learn everything she could from Jill Harris, but she would do it in her own way. "Our demands were very plain. Material and workers to provide for Imperial protection from outside dangers and threats. Submit and the war would be over tomorrow."

"Gold and slaves. You sound just like Cortez demanding tribute from the Aztecs."

Phasma didn't know the reference and countered with facts as she knew them. "You drew first blood when you fired upon the _Insertion_ last year. You had no right as all space in the Sol System has been deemed Imperial territory, by the order of the Emperor."

"He certainly sounds like a tyrant." Jill Harris said pointedly, but not rudely. The shuttle gave a small jolt as it lifted off. The First Lady turned her eyes away from Phasma and studied the view outside.

"He is strong, that is what he is. We believe the strong should decide the best course of action for the majority. One being in charge can react to crisis or an adversary much more quickly than a committee can. He saw the inherent threat the Empire in having a rival in this system and wasted no time in responding to your attack on us with lawful occupation."

"Certainly more time should have been taken by both sides to learn more about each other. A lot of blood has been needlessly shed because of your Father's ill-conceived reaction."

"Perhaps. . ." Phasma said, careful not to concede anything. She had wanted to go to war with the Earth just as much as everyone else on Mars. With extremely primitive space-faring capabilities it wasn't as if the Earthlings were going anywhere soon. They had them where they wanted them. Phasma didn't want to admit the course they had taken was the wrong one and that perhaps more time should have been taken to study the nearby Earth.

"How did your Father become Emperor anyway? I understood that he was some sort of Admiral when your Empire made contact with us. My husband once told me that you were members of the 1st Galactic Empire but now I find myself a 'guest' of the 1st Martian Empire. Did I miss something?"

Phasma searched for the proper diplomatic answer before responding. "We are still the Empire. We just find ourselves _apart_ from the Old Empire."

"And this was a decision of the strong? To cut yourselves off from your old way of life? Does the Old Empire approve of this war with Earth? And what happens when the people of your world grow tired of the will of the strong? What happens when the meek become the strong?" Jill Harris asked a barrage of ponderous questions. "Will they cut themselves off from the New Empire? Is there such a thing as rebellion in the Empire?"

"The beings of our world can bring any grievance or petition to the Emperor's notice whenever he holds court."

"And if he disagrees with a petition or the grievance that is against him, then what? The people need a voice in their own government or they will rise up against you one day." Jill Harris warned. "Have you considered returning to democracy? I understand you once practiced it in what someone told me was the Old Republic." Jill asked.

"Democracy gave us the chaos . . ."

". . . of the Clone Wars. Yes, I have heard this response before, from several of your people at the palace. Do you have any idea how indoctrinated you all sound?"

Phasma felt her face grow hot at the accusation but she stopped the insult on her tongue while she considered Jill Harris's argument. Every Imperial instructor that had ever taught her had drummed that lesson into her. Emperor Palpatine had saved the Old Republic from itself and the Separatist menace by transforming itself into the 1st Galactic Empire. Even in the Old Empire the Imperial Senate was an inept and bloated bureaucracy that served less and less of a purpose as the years went by. She wondered if Palpatine hadn't disbanded the useless blight on the 1st Galactic Empire by now. Democracy was an outdated failure in the Home Galaxy and every being knew that. It was amazing that Earth hadn't yet come to the same conclusion.

"I'm sorry, Princess Phasma, I don't mean to insult you. I hope that one day the two of us can be friends. If you are to rule your Empire one day I do not wish you to think that all earthlings are your enemy. I also hope that in your heart you don't truly believe that only the strong should have a voice here on Mars. Perhaps you will be able to find a middle ground between our two worlds when you become the Empress."

Phasma thought about the earthling who had tortured her and the woman who sat across from her now. They were so different. Whereas that woman had been full of rage and the need to inflict pain, from Jill she felt no malice at all Instead, she felt a mutual respect forming, perhaps even the beginnings of something akin to trust, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it yet. "I will have to think on it. I have enjoyed this talk, Jill Harris. It has been truly thought-provoking."

"Please, Phasma, if we are to become friends, call me Jill."

"Jill, you have given me much to think about but the beings of Mars will still need me to be strong when I am Empress." Phasma wondered why she craved this woman's opinion. Her mind raced between thoughts of establishing a voice for being strong for her beings and what the effects of even a small taste of democracy would do to Mars.

"In acts of mercy can be found great strength. Yes, they will need you to be strong. But they will need you to be a leader. I have heard that many of the 'beings' of Mars were once slaves to the Old Empire. Your Father made them residents. You have a chance to one day make them citizens if you wish. Do that and they most certainly will follow you anywhere."

"You offer wise council despite our two worlds being enemies. I find you to be the most intriguing of adversaries, Jill."

"Thank you. My husband once told me the same thing."

"I was going to leave you in the shuttle while I sought a meeting with Moff Seco but I find myself wondering if you'll accompany me instead, strictly in a consular capacity." Phasma asked.

"Of Course. I'd be honored. Moff Seco? He is the man who leads your naval and land forces on Earth, right?"

"If by 'lead' you mean order them to stand in one place until you earthlings blow them all up, then yes he is the Theater Commander of all Imperial forces engaged on Earth." Phasma said darkly, then silently chastised herself for letting her displeasure show in front of the enemy when she saw Jill raise a quizzical eyebrow. She counseled herself to keep better control of her emotions and waited for Jill to jump on the opportunity to call her out. Instead she was surprised when the First Lady did not deign to comment on it. She was both shaken and impressed by Jill's composure and wondered what ulterior purpose it could serve, if any.

"Though I must warn you, I cannot condone any course that puts the people of Earth in further danger. My advice will always be for the total withdrawal of all Imperial soldiers from the Earth." Jill offered.

"Understood. Watch yourself when you are near Seco. Moffs are a most slippery species of Imperial." Phasma understated.

"Trust me, until you've met a member of the American Congress you don't know what slippery is."

The shuttle's engine rose to a high-pitched whine and the craft's wings folded up as it came in for a landing. Vapors from the landing jets were still pouring from the transport as Phasma descended the loading ramp. First Lady Jill Harris followed slightly off to one side and to her rear. To a casual observer she looked simply as if she were one of the Princess's handmaidens. The Imperial Guardsmen fell into formation behind them.

The landing pad was halfway up the side of Tarkin's Tower and seventy-five stories above the roadways of Culter City. The capital stretched out like a blanket of diamonds across the Ares Vallis as millions of lights started to illuminate the darkening evening sky. A glow on the horizon betrayed the location of the huge military district in the Margaritifer Terra, where Phasma attended the Academy and the Imperial Martian Army trained.

"Amazing." Jill said, looking out over the red pourstone skyscrapers that made up the downtown sector of the capital. "Are you sure you've only been here a little over two years. This city would rival to New York, Paris, or Tokyo back on my world."

Phasma took pride in Jill's compliment even if she didn't fully understand it. "We do not like to waste time in the Empire. As I said earlier, when the strong decide to do something, it gets done."

"And when the people decide to do something it stays done." Jill jibed back.

"Do you see that slight bend in the Yos River down there?" Phasma slowed her walk enough to point out a section of the city just beyond the Kuat Research District. "It was there just over two standard years ago our commandos captured the American outpost that was manned by your astronauts."

"Interesting. And where are those astronauts now?" Jill asked. A crisp wind picked up and threatened to blow away her question.

Phasma picked up her pace again with the uncomfortable inquiry. She really didn't know the intimate details of the earthling spacers fate but knew deep down it couldn't have been good. "I understand they were held by Fleet Intelligence for some time and then were some of the first prisoners inside Camp 1138. The Force only knows their fate beyond that."

"The Force?"

"Another time perhaps." Phasma cut that line of inquiry short. She didn't have time for a religion lesson before they reached the entrance.

A squad of stormtroopers led by a young 1st Lieutenant with the collar insignia of the Home Guard greeted them at the entrance to the military headquarters. He snapped to attention and saluted at Phasma's approach. She wondered why she bothered with her rank of 2nd Lieutenant at all anymore. Nobody else did.

"Your Highness, this is an unexpected surprise." The officer said.

"I hadn't expected to be coming here myself until just this afternoon. Tell me, where is Moff Seco currently located?" Phasma demanded.

The officer had to think for a moment. The man had at least a decade on her but Phasma could tell her wits could run circles around the older officer.

"Last I heard he was meeting with Captain Charge up in the Imperial Navy Material and Training offices. I can have a trooper show you the way."

"No need. I know the way." Phasma assured the lieutenant as she brushed past him and his squad. She had made it a point to learn everything about the military headquarters when it was being constructed, hoping one day to gain a command position within its halls. She felt she probably knew her way around the headquarters better than her own Father, who was neglecting the military more and more these days.

Jill Harris said nothing, not even when the turbolift they entered momentarily unbalanced her as it surged through the tower to their destination. Phasma guessed they were used to much slower turbolifts on Earth that didn't just go up and down but sideways as well.

Phasma braced herself for a confrontation with the Theater Commander. Though she stood her ground she secretly feared that because of her age the elder Moffs didn't take her very seriously. She told herself that if she was going to be a great leader one day she would have to face confrontation head on. And since her clone-template had been a Senator and a Queen in the Old Republic, surely she would have approved of Phasma's actions.

The turbolift opened to a large room filled with clerks and secretary droids busily working away on datapads and computers at dozens of flimsiplast covered work stations. Along the walls blue-lit archive data storage hard drives were arranged in stacks that reached to the ceiling of the room.

"Attention on deck!" someone shouted. Every Imperial serviceman in the room snapped to attention. Several of the droids tried to mimic their human and alien counterparts.

"As you were. I don't want to keep any of you from your important work." The beings returned to their seats. Most of them continued to steal glances at her and her retinue as they passed though the rows of desks.

A Kel Dor naval officer with the rank squares of an adjutant approached and met them at the entrance to Captain Charge's executive office. "Your Highness, I wasn't aware that you were meeting with Captain Charge this evening. At the moment the Director is in a meeting with Moff Seco."

"Good, because that is who I'm actually here to see. I hate to insist, but if you would be so kind as to announce me to those Gentlebeings." The Kel Dor studied her for a second or two. She could tell he was trying to decide what to do. Should he interrupt his boss's meeting and risk upsetting a high-ranking Moff or insist Phasma wait until the meeting had concluded and risk the ire of the Heir to the Empire.

In the end he pressed an activation button on a comlink attached to his wrist. "Sir, Princess Phasma Yos is here to see you and your guest."

"She is?" Captain Charge's surprised voice came across the comlink. "Um . . . send her in."

"Yes, Sir." The officer turned and held the door open for Phasma. "This way, your majesty."

Phasma stepped into the office, followed by Jill Harris and four of her silent Imperial Guardsmen. The other two positioned themselves outside the door.

Captain Charge and Moff Seco had been standing in front of a bank of data screens. Rows of figures and starship cargo capacities scrolled across the devices in aurabesh. On a holoimager next to Captain Charge's desk was an image of the tibanna mining facility orbiting Earth 5 while the VSD _Charger_ and the _Tarkin's_ _Fist's_ only _Interdictor-_class ISD the _Immobile_ protected the valuable station. Phasma quickly wondered why Moff Seco had been discussing those particular starships, considering they didn't fall under the command of the fleet around Earth.

"Princess Phasma, it is a pleasure to see you again. I swear you have grown more radiant in the time since I last had the opportunity to talk with you at your Father's coronation last month." Moff Seco's rustic Onderon accent was grating on Phasma's ears. Perhaps she would have found it endearing, but tonight she was annoyed with the Ploo Sector Moff and her Father and she was not in the mood to be charmed and brushed aside by men who saw her as nothing more than a simple girl.

"Moff Seco, why are you here on Mars while the beings of Earth blow themselves up in their attempts to remove us from their world?" Phasma practically growled. Moff Seco and Captain Charge both looked like they had just bitten into something unpleasant.

"I would be careful my dear when addressing a Moff. We are known for our long memories when it comes to such slights." Moff Seco warned Phasma with menace dripping from every word. Phasma glared back. She never trusted the Imperial Governor like her Father and Grand Moff Tarkin had.

"What the Princess is trying to say is that is has been far too long since the two of you were able to discuss the situation on Earth." Jill said.

"Has it? I have doubted the military situation on Earth held much interest to those in the House of Yos these past months. I have submitted reports for your perusal." Seco replied dismissively.

"And Princess Phasma would be happy to engage in civilized discussion with one of her subjects, just so long as they remember who is subject to whom." Jill added.

Moff Seco gave the slightest of begrudging nods at the suggestion. Captain Charge had a look of confusion across his features. "Excuse me, Madame. I don't believe we've met. I am Captain Charge one of the three Directors of the Bureau of Operations that runs the day to day operations of the Empire."

"A pleasure, though I would rather be meeting you on my home world in under vastly different circumstances." Jill held her hand out to shake hands with the Senior Naval Officer. Captain Charge must have mistook Jill's bearing for that of Core World nobility for he bowed to place a kiss upon her offered hand. "I am Jill Harris, First Lady of the North American Union . . . of Earth." Captain Charge stopped himself before his lips met Jill's skin. He stood back up and gave her a most curious look.

Moff Seco, who until this time had been glaring menacingly at Phasma, suddenly turned to Jill Harris. "A Terran! You brought a Terran enemy here to Tarkin Tower, the Headquarters of the Fleet? These data screens contain up-to-date logistics for supplying the Imperial Armies fighting on Earth. Madame, have you come here for espionage? We blast spies in the Empire, you know." Seco sounded far more incredulous than he likely was, considering it had been widely reported on the HoloNews that the First Lady was a guest of the Royal Family.

"If I were here on a mission of a clandestine nature I certainly wouldn't have had myself abducted by that heartless bounty hunter nor would I have brought my children into harm's way. Any knowledge I gain under the current circumstances is purely academic, I assure you." Jill said.

Phasma couldn't help but admire the way Jill Harris handled herself amongst beings who were surely her enemies. Every cell of the First Lady's body seemed to exude confidence and Phasma felt her own poise buoyed by Jill Harris's proximity. Phasma wondered if she would be so self-assured when she was older.

"Very well, but let it be known that I confer with you in her presence under protest." Moff Seco said, his tone much more chagrined since they had entered. "So you were saying you take umbrage to how I am executing the campaign on our neighbor Earth. As I have assured your Father we have devastated their cities and infrastructure from above and hold two of their cities hostage while another campaign is underway in the region of their largest ocean. While it is tardy, we are expecting an unconditional surrender any day now."

"And what is holding that up?" Phasma asked.

"I have instructed Fleet Intelligence, under Captain Yutu, that certain of the Terran leadership are inspiring the surviving Earth military forces to resist and that those targets should be eliminated immediately. As soon as they are neutralized the Earth will fall into line with the Empire. That is the way it was during the Clone War after the deaths of Count Dooku and General Grievous." Moff Seco answered Phasma. To Jill he said, "The sooner your husband is removed the sooner the unpleasantness on Earth will end."

"Then you do not understand my people. Their loyalties are to democracy and freedom, not the life of one man. To paraphrase from a great leader in Earth's past, and let these words be a warning to you, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in California, we shall fight on the seas and the oceans. We shall fight with growing confidence in the air and orbit above, we shall defend our planet, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and the streets, we shall fight in the hill, we shall never surrender." Jill spoke with more fervor than Phasma had ever witnessed in a politician, as if she actually believed the words she was speaking. Even Moff Seco looked stunned.

"Beautifully put, Madame." Captain Charge responded. "Are all the beings of Earth of the same mind as you?"

"To the being." Jill said, using the Home Galaxy term.

"Do you see, Moff? This is what our stormtroopers are facing. This is what they have to overcome. And now the earthlings are willing to self-destruct a number of themselves just to harm us. Their belief in their victory over us borders on sheer fanaticism." Phasma said.

"I'm sure Moff Seco is doing all he possibly can to insure our own final victory, "Captain Charge offered. "We've stopped them from breaking into the Target cities and except for that recent airspeeder bomb attack on Target East we've had no problems holding onto areas under our control. I'd say Moff Seco, as our Theater Commander, has done a wizard job handling the war effort on Earth."

"The Empire should not merely be holding ground. The beings of Earth respect strength, do they not?" Phasma asked Jill Harris.

"We do, but if it is not tempered by justice and wisdom we will always resist it." The earthling responded with a veiled warning.

"We have destroyed their cities but they continue to resist. Now they strap bombs to themselves and blow up our troopers. You have given the earthlings something to rally behind. Everyday more and more of their troopers gather around our landing sites on their world. Earth troopers by the millions are on the move. Billions of survivors move towards Target Shanghai and Target Los Angeles for a chance to strike back at us. We must be the ones to deliver that strike. We must step outside of our energy shields and crush the armies allied against us." Phasma explained.

Moff Seco looked to be sincerely contemplating her words. Could she dictate her will to an Imperial Governor just as her Father does?

"That's not what I was suggesting." Jill Harris said. "You have hurt us, I'll admit, but unless you offer us a just peace, one we can both live with, we will continue to resist even if our armies are destroyed."

Phasma sighed. She did not want to argue with Jill, she needed an ally here, but Jill did not understand the ways of the Empire. She looked over at Jill and watched with unexpected regret as the earthling's face changed into something unreadable. She felt awful about saying these things even though they needed to be said. As much as Phasma was the clone of the great Queen Amidala of Naboo she was also very much a product of an Imperial upbringing. "The beings of the Empire need a great victory. Smash Earth's armies, forget about capturing this President of theirs, leave their leaders with nothing to lead and they will be powerless to resist the expansion of the Empire in the future. Earth will be thrown in the dustbin of history, Gentlebeings, if we crush them now. I should know something about history because the Yos family intends to write it."

Moff Seco coughed on something that caught in his throat. "Deliver a decisive victory on the battlefield and then bring the troopers home where they'll be safe from the fanatics on Earth? I take it the Yos family has already decided upon this course of action, even if some may find it . . . foolhardy?"

"Precisely. We have achieved our goals already. We've brought millions of slaves to Mars to kick start our heavy industries, Operation _Stork_ will raise our numbers in the coming years and our shipyards are working overtime to spread our influence throughout this galaxy. Earth will spend decades repairing the damage we have already wrought and without our help they will be unable to recuperate from the global environmental disaster their mismanagement of their world and this war have wreaked upon Earth. In the New Order of the 1st Martian Empire the Earth will be as inconsequential as Tatooine, and who ever heard of any one from there ever amounting to anything much?"

"If this is the will of the Emperor, then I will follow his orders. From what you have shown me this evening, First Lady, I can see that the beings of Earth are not on the verge of surrender after all."

"We have not yet begun to fight." Jill said, her eyes coming to life once more and dancing with a determination Phasma had never seen outside of old Holovids of Emperor Palpatine. Phasma admired the expression and took it as the warning it was meant to be. These earthlings were in the war until a final victory could be reached. Phasma wanted that victory to be on the side of the Empire.

"Then if it is the will of the Emperor. . ."

"It is." Phasma lied. She knew her Father didn't care for the war on the neighboring world any longer. His only will was to expand the Empire to the stars.

"Then I will draft the orders at once. The sooner we defeat the earthlings the sooner we can set things right here on Mars as well." Seco said.

"Thank you for your time then, Moff Seco. I won't take any more of it. Captain Charge, always a pleasure." The Director had a look of confusion upon his face, unsure of what to make of the confrontation between the Moff and the Princess. In the end he bowed at the waist in unison with the Ploo Moff.

Phasma turned and left the room, Jill Harris and the Imperial Guardsmen accompanying her.

"Do you still seek my consul?" Jill asked once they had returned to their seats aboard Phasma's shuttle.

"I do, though I sense you are not happy about what transpired in there."

"You're right. It could have gone better but I understand my place here. And I think you are making a mistake. The longer you stay on Earth the faster you hasten your own defeat. The clock is ticking as my people are surely finding new ways to harm the Empire even as we speak. You are safe behind your energy shields but leave those harbors and your forces will be destroyed. Leave now and one day we could have peace. If you saw us as equals we could be great allies, not the rivals you see us as now."

"I will consider this." Phasma wondered about the future of the Empire and the Earth. Surely there would always be conflict between the two societies. Jill Harris made sense when she suggested that there could possibly some sort of middle ground between the two of them and she hoped that that was the case. Her Father didn't want to talk about it. She wished she had known her mother, but from what she had been able to find surely Padme would have wanted peaceful coexistence with the Earth.

"Oh, and another thing about Moff Seco."

"Yes?"

"That man is planning a coup."

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

In memory of Neil Armstrong who got to the moon well before the Empire conquered it.


	48. Cody 4

**Papakura, Hunua Ranges, North Island, New Zealand, Earth**

Cody liked this place.

The weather was wizard, the terrain and the view were astral and the beings who lived here weren't trying too hard to kill him at the moment.

He was currently staring through his macrobinoculars at a few of those natives across the waters of Manukua Harbor as they dug artillery blasting pits for their long range slugthrowers. He smiled when he noticed one of their officers staring back at him through his own set of optics. Cody almost felt like waving, considering they had been watching each other for going on two standard weeks now.

"Lieutenant." Cody called for his aide, who was never far from his side

"Yes, Marshall?" Birgaan replied.

"Another artillery position going up in the west Auckland suburbs." Cody marked the position with his rangefinder. "Check it out."

Birgaan did so, scanning the area on the north side of the harbor with his own macrobinoculars. "They're making it pretty obvious. Hardly any camouflage at all. Could be another false position like we've seen more and more of lately."

"Perhaps. The slugthrowers look kriffing real enough to me. We'll mark that position for the AT-AP and SPHA-M batteries anyway."

"Roger, roger, sir."

Nine days ago the 212th Assault Legion had brushed aside the remaining New Zealand airspeeder protection that had survived dogfighting Imperial fighters across the Pacific. The 212th then set up their beach head bestride the peninsula that was the home of the city of Auckland. They had just cut the city of Auckland off from the rest of the island and were preparing to reduce the city with an orbital bombardment when . . .

. . . Nothing.

A malicious malady with the nefarious name Ebola had broken out amongst the abo prisoners who had been transported to Mars. In response the new Emperor had ordered a suspension in the delivery of new slaves to the red planet.

Now Cody's 212th Assault Legion dug into a position that started on the southern edge of Auckland and stretched far into the interior of the island. His _vode_ Gett and Salvo both had positioned their respective Legions to capture the city of Wellington to the south. The suspension dragged on and on.

With no clear-cut orders, Cody hadn't ordered his troopers to round up the local populace from the surrounding countryside. Since he didn't want to watch them slowly starve to death he had even released the prisoners they had gathered up upon their landing on this temperate island.

At first the two sides just stared at each other. Admiral Bacara and the ARC-170s aboard the orbiting _Fool _prevented help from arriving for the defending abos on the island. They had already deflected relief columns from the southern island of New Zealand and the Commonwealth of Australia to the west. Then about a week ago the oddest thing had occurred.

An officer bearing a white flag had come up to the Imperial line and asked to dicker a cease-fire. Since Cody hadn't ordered his troops to attack the city and the New Zealanders hadn't tried to break out there hadn't been much 'firing' or blasting in the first place.

The officer had turned out to be General Temuera Morrison of the 3rd Auckland Regiment, the Countess of Ranfurly's Own. The man had shocked all of the clones. While he had at least twenty years on all of them his appearance was the spitting image of every clone in the three Legions occupying the island. His accent was a near match to their Mando'a, as if the man had just stepped out of a suit of _beskar'gam._ In fact the clone and abo accents, at least the abos on this island, were eerily similar. If Cody wasn't the clone he was he would have sworn Morrison could have been his father. The man was a ringer for Jango Fett.

General Morrison had proposed a cease-fire for the time being. A sort of live-and-let-live arrangement, he called it. Cody had some reservations about keeping his end of the bargain. After all, Theater Commander Seco could order him to attack again at a moment's notice, but he assured the Terran General that the clone troopers would stick with it for as long as they could. General Morrison had understood and even hinted that he might be having some of the same issues with his superiors, but for now the north island of New Zealand was quiet.

It couldn't have come at a better time. His troopers were exhausted from their slash-and-burn prisoner grab across the Pacific. They had depopulated thousands of islands and several nations in their mad dash across this world's largest ocean. Their targets kept getting bigger and bigger with more armed resistance on each one. With targets like Japan, Indonesia, and the Philippines looming before them they needed a chance to rest and refit.

Cody couldn't have asked for a better place for the clones to take a break. Patrols in the towns and villages reported that the native abos were just as curious about them. The near-humans of New Zealand weren't on the verge of starvation, they hadn't suffered too heavily under the war's opening orbital bombardment and throughout large portions of the nation power and electricity flowed freely. There were even reports of the abos trading openly with his troopers and in some places greeting patrols, if not warmly, then at least without open hostility.

In some cases it had grown a little too friendly. Reports of fraternization between his men and the locals were on the rise. Cody was considering weekly medical screenings for his troopers to see if any of them had come down with the dreaded local venereal diseases. His legion was already suspected of being the one that had captured the Ebola infected prisoners, probably from somewhere in the deep jungles of either Papua New Guinea or the outlying islands of Malaysia, which they had ransacked before turning south.

Admiral Bacara had heard scuttlebutt that the Emperor had considered quarantining the entire 212th Legion on some empty island in the middle of the Pacific but supposedly the Royal Princess, Phasma, had talked him out of it. When none of his troopers had displayed symptoms of the fatal disease the rumors and scuttlebutt ended.

Cody put his macrobinoculars over his eye lenses again. He wondered if that officer across the way was General Morrison. "Lieutenant, have one of the _Torrent_ flights do a fly over of that position and see if we can't move more eyes onto one of the ridges up in the Hunua Ranges. Tell them not to get too close. Don't want to spook the abos."

"Yes, sir." Birgaan turned and spoke to a trooper wearing a large hyperwave radio set on his back. Within three minutes a flight of ten V-19 _Torrent_ starfighters shot across the bay towards the earthling city. The enemy's anti-airspeeder slugthrowers stayed silent.

"Wizard. Good to see the cease-fire's holding." A familiar voice said behind him.

Cody spun around and spotted the newcomer. Clone Marshal Commander CC-5052 saluted him with an obscene gesture from the back of a 74-Z speederbike. The clone wore his customized, anti-ballistic stormtrooper armor that was painted with the old yellow markings of the 327th Star Corps. His friend also sported several modifications such as a brown Kama command skirt, polarized macrobinoculars and his unique pair of krayt-dragon pearl handled DC-17 hand blasters holstered alongside a lightsaber he had claimed on Felucia during the last war.

Cody laughed. It was good to see his old comrade Bly in good spirits again.

Bly had been steaming over falling into the devastating ambush the abos had laid for his commandos on the lesser continental mass of this world. Though Cody had noted that his _vod's_ anger wasn't aimed so much at the natives who had laid the trap, but the vacheads in Fleet that had failed to give them support when things at Fort Knox had gone down the degraded hyperlane.

Cody couldn't blame him. When they had both returned to the _Insertion_ after the aborted raid he had wanted to grab that kriffing Captain Volt and defenestrate him right out the nearest airlock. And if the _di'kutla_ naval officer hadn't kept a platoon of naval troopers between himself and the two irate Marshall Commanders, Cody would have done just that.

"_Su'cay gar _Bly." Cody returned the gesture. _So you're still alive_.

"Of course I am! I've only had abos blasting at me. They at least have the courage to stand and face me like a man, unlike those stang fleet _chakaar_ who try to stab me in the back." Apparently Bly hadn't let his anger over their betrayal diminish.

"_Nu jurkad Mando'ade, burc'ya, _one day we'll be free of prejudice that should have been left in the Home Galaxy." Cody tried to reassure his brother.

"That's why Bacara brought us here anyway." Bly walked up to the ridge where Cody overlooked the pristine blue waters of the harbor below. Several small boats could be seen plying the waters below, heading for the besieged city.

Birgaan choose that time to interrupt, pointing to the aquatic craft. "Probably bringing in food to the enemy, sir. Should I have the _Torrents_ engage them?"

"No, let the cease-fire hold. A few boat loads of supplies won't alter the outcome of the war one way or the other." Cody answered. He appreciated the change of subject if for no other purpose than to get Bly's mind off of his enemies in the Fleet.

"Are those things powered by sails?" Bly was studying the watercraft with his own macrobinoculars.

"Yes, we've seen quite a few of their kind since we've been stationed here. Anything larger was sent to the bottom before we ever landed. Plenty of backrocket worlds back in the Home Galaxy that still depend on wind power, you know." Cody said.

"Just goes to show how primitive this world still is. But all and all this island seems kind of _mesh'la_." Bly observed.

"Oh, it's quite beautiful. Wait till you see some of the interior that we've occupied. How long are you staying with us?" Cody asked.

"A day at least, I was just checking in with Bacara. He's down near Wellington with Gett's legion but I thought I'd see how you were getting on up here after I endexed with the Admiral Commander. I hear you're the one who brokered this nice little cease-fire we've got going on with the local abos."

"It's true, and it's kriffing good to see you, _vod_." Cody said.

Since they had returned from the ambush in Kentucky, Cody and his legion had continued to move across the Pacific. Seizing the eastern islands of Malaysia and Indonesia and making several raids on the nearby Philippines, before they had been ordered to invade the island nation of New Zealand. Bly and his Forward Observers had been left behind on several of the captured islands to observe the abo's movement.

Birgaan asked before Cody could, "Marshall Bly, what is the situation up north? We hardly left an abo in our wake."

"Malleable, Lieutenant. The Indonesians and Australians are infiltrating troopers and engineers back into the areas we've abandoned. Mainly by small motorboats and long range chopters. But we've seen some light airspeeder transports as well, primarily dropping paratroopers onto isolated airspeeder and aquatic bases."

"They won't find much to use in those places. My boys were pretty thorough in smashing everything we thought would be helpful to the enemy, especially airspeeder fields and aquatic port facilities. And it's not like we left a friendly populace to help them rebuild, or any heavy equipment." Cody said.

"True. The Fleet has almost thirty _Nebulon B_ frigates up there in orbit whose sole mission is to send aquatic ships to the bottom. From what I've heard they've done a pretty good job reducing the abos to coastal traffic and small boats like those down there." Bly pointed at the small boats in the harbor. "The troopers the earthlings are bringing into those places are pretty thin on the ground but they're spreading out. It won't be long before they get civilians living back there again. As it was, it was getting tougher and tougher for my troopers to stay unobserved as we watched them re-occupy those islands." Bly said, panning his macrobinoculars from one end of the harbor to the other.

"Won't matter for a long time, sir. You come back to those islands in a couple of standard decades and they still won't have a tenth of the population that we pulled off of those places." Birgaan bragged.

Cody wasn't sure he shared the junior officer's bravado. Operation _Piper_ didn't seem to hold the glory that campaigns during the Clone War had. Cody hadn't felt honorable since that day on Utapau twelve years ago. His time with the mongrels in the Stormtrooper Corps of the Old Empire hadn't helped matters. Everything in the Old Empire just felt dirtier. He was tired of taking orders he didn't like.

"The sooner this whole war is over the better. Then we can go back to Mars and see about settling our _vode_ into retirement. It's not like we don't deserve it after the Clone War." Cody said.

"I second that." Bly wistfully agreed. "Got tired of fighting after Felucia. It was a long war. By the Emperor I hope this one doesn't last as long."

Cody's eyes glanced down to the lightsaber of his _vod's_ belt. Bly bore scars from Order 66, just as he did.

Bly seemed to be following his line of thinking, "Bacara wanted me to give you these in person, They're new general orders from the Royal Family itself." Bly pulled out a piece of flimsiplast and handed it to Cody.

On it were a list of contingency orders much like the ones every clone had to memorize during their training on Kamino. With a new Emperor comes a new style of doing things, Cody thought. "Only forty-seven this time. Should take a trooper less than an hour to memorize them."

"A lot shorter because we don't have to deal with a Senate or the Jedi this time around." Bly said.

"What about that one Neyo ran into in Culter City? That mysterious Togruta?" Cody asked, referring to their fellow _vod_ who had been left behind on Mars to try to figure out a cure to their rapid-aging problem based on a formula a long lost member of the _Cuy'val Dar_ had sent them. Cody handed the flimsiplast to Birgaan, who left to disperse the new orders to the troopers of the 212th.

"My guess is the new Emperor isn't aware of her. He's been focused on finding habitable systems for those colony ships the Moffs are all hot and bothered about."

"Surprised he found the time to come up with a new set of contingency orders for us troopers." Cody said.

"He didn't, scuttlebutt is they came from the other half of the Royal Family. She's got the Theater Commander riled up as well."

"The Princess? Never have trusted a royal, even old Palps. Wonder what kind of game that little _adi'ka_ is playing at?"

Before Bly could offer an opinion a messenger stomped up to the two commanders on the back of an AT-RT. With an assurance that belied years of experience and training the courier jumped from the vehicle's saddle and landed easily at Cody's feet.

"Commander, sir. There is a situation developing south of here in the township of Hamilton. Your presence is requested by the captain in charge of the garrison there." The messenger reported as he whipped off a quick salute.

"Doesn't look like much is going on here at the moment. Marshall Bly, would you care to go for a ride?" Cody asked.

"I'd love to." His _burc'ya_ answered.

Bly jumped back onto the seat of his newer speederbike while Cody walked over to several older BARC speeders that belonged to his headquarters company and picked one out for himself. A squad of six lancer troopers armed with power lances and riding their specialized Aratech 105-K speederbikes idled nearby, ready to provide an armed escort for the two senior officers.

Cody took the lead as his speederbike raced away at several hundred kilometers an hour. Within seconds Bly caught up to Cody and rode alongside him. They quickly left the front line entrenchments of the Legion behind them as they weaved between AT-PT blasting pits aimed back at Auckland.

The countryside whizzed past them in a blur as they followed State Highway 1 south. Snow-capped mountains peeked through low lying clouds to the south. In surrounding fields local shepherds watched over startled flocks of wooly ungulates that stampeded away in fright from the roar of the approaching speederbikes.

"Would be right nice country for nerf, you know? I ought to look into buying myself a herd of 'em and settling them down here after this war is over." Cody observed.

"Ha, you a nerf herder, the Conqueror of Utapau." Bly laughed.

"And why the hell not? We're not getting any younger, you know, and it's kind of the reason Bacara brought all of us old clones from the GAR to this local system. So we could enjoy some sort of peaceful retirement."

"Actually, I can't think of a reason why not. You're right, with what little of a future we have left we might as well make the most of it. But why here? Why not retire back up on Mars with others of our kind." As if to emphasize Bly's point they crested a hill and were greeted with the sight of several bombtroopers pushing the burned-out shell of a native landcruiser off the roadway's shoulder with a hoverdozer.

Cody slowed the speederbikes as they gave a wide berth to the explosive ordnance troopers. "It's true they don't exactly love us on this world. The way things are I have my doubts that they ever will. Even with the ceasefire we've got to be on the lookout for bushwhackers along the roads and several armed bandit gangs operating in the hills."

"Have you had any problems with those Being Bombs around here?" Bly asked.

"Not personally. Gett had one blow up in his lines a eight days ago. At least we think it was a suicide bomber. There wasn't much left of the abo to make any sort of identification. Took out a tibanna storage bunker."

"They're getting pretty daring in both Target cities with at least a half dozen of the attacks every day. The mongrels in the stormtrooper legions there are taking it on the chin from those _di'kutla_ fanatics."

"I can imagine they're stang hard to stop once an abo gets it in his head that he's going to kill himself to hurt us. We just have to keep up our vigilance until this campaign is over and we can all go home again. What's this now?"

They had started to come into the outskirts of Hamilton, a medium-sized city of around 150,000 beings that had surrendered to Salvo's 32nd Legion during the first day's landing in New Zealand. So far the city had gone about its normal business under martial law and had even done some trading with the three stormtrooper legions on the island to guarantee the flow of food into the city. In return Bacara had released most of the New Zealander civilian prisoners taken before the cease-fire had been declared.

As they passed the homes and buildings that made up Hamilton's suburbs they came across a large stoppage of Imperial traffic unintentionally blocking the roadway. Cody slowed his escort to a stop at the rear vehicle of the convoy, an AT-TE, which had some of its clone trooper passengers outside of its hull stretching their legs.

"What's going on here, Sergeant?" Cody asked the NCO who looked to be in charge of the group.

The trooper came to attention and whipped off a proper salute when he saw who was riding the speederbikes that had come up behind his walker. "Commander, sir, we rightfully don't know. Our convoy came upon another convoy that was being blocked by abos up ahead. Supposedly there's another convoy stuck coming up from the other way as well. As far as anyone can tell the whole situation is fierfeked up beyond all recognition."

"Yes, it does look kriffing FUBARed. Any idea where this blockage is happening, Sergeant?"

"A couple of kilometers up ahead, along this route, sir. From what the hyperwave is saying you can't miss it."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Cody hand signaled the lancer squad to move forward.

At practically a crawl the speederbikes moved along the long column of Imperial vehicles. More AT-TEs were mixed in amongst the column of fat, military gravtrucks hauling batteries of AV-7 anti-vehicle cannons and slow SPHA-T units. Armored repulsor lorries sat idling along the road with their cargos of tibanna and fuel.

All along the route troopers in their armor stood outside of their vehicles. Years of war and professional training on Kamino had ingrained in them a habit of forming a protective perimeter whenever their vehicles were stopped. Cody witnessed many of them mingling and talking with local abos who had left their homes to see what all the commotion in the streets was about.

Many officers in the stalled formation saluted the two Marshall Commanders as they made their way to the front of the long column. Cody wished they wouldn't do that as it just made them more likely targets for an enemy sniper. Bly pointed out a few troopers talking to some pretty piffers as they passed. Cody sighed. Fraternization would continue to be an ongoing problem.

"This could be an ambush. I wouldn't put anything past these Terrans after what happened at Fort Knox." Bly suggested.

"Could be. But a Being Bomber would take out a lot of his own beings if he attacked this place. So far we haven't had to use reprisals here."

"Wish they could say the same in Targets East and West. Maybe that's why the abos seem so calm around these parts?" A few laughing abo younglings tried to run alongside the speederbikes and keep pace for a few seconds. The escorting lancers threw a couple of plastoid water bottles to the kids who laughed and wrestled over the containers.

Cody's party soon came to long lines of huge HAVw A6 Juggernauts at the front of the stalled column. Several dozen troopers were milling about the formation while others provided security. Overhead a flight of older _Nimbus_-class V-wings flew over the detained turbo tanks. Their screaming engines the loudest thing on the streets of Hamilton.

The speederbikes pulled up to a stop near a group of clone officers who were in a discussion with about a dozen of the local abos leaders. A large group of several hundred earthlings stood in a loose formation, blocking the intersection of State Highway 1 and State Highway 26. Another column of AT-HEs was blocked coming up from the other direction on the far side of the abos.

Cody flicked his eyelid on an icon in his HUD that connected his comm back to his headquarters unit. "Birgann, be advised CC-2224 is on location now."

"Roger, roger." His aide's voice came back to him. "CC-2224 is on site."

By this time several of the officers talking with the locals noticed just who had arrived on the speederbikes. A major who appeared to be the highest ranking clone on the scene broke off his conversation and rushed over to salute Cody.

"Commander, am I ever glad to see you."

"What seems to be the problem here, Major?" Cody asked as he dismounted from his speederbike. Bly followed his lead.

"The locals are blocking the roadway. They claim that they built the roadway and they should have a say in who uses it. They've been doing some kind of crazy _Dha Werda Verda_ to try to scare us off. As it is we're so jammed up here it'd be kriffing impossible to move our roadway columns in reverse and back out another way."

"The _Dha Werda Verda_? They're really doing that?" Bly asked, pleasantly shocked.

"Oh yes, sir. They do it every ten minutes or so. It's been a peaceful protest so far. Even some of my clones have been talking to the dancers between performances. Seems the locals call it _Haka_ or something. They should be doing it again here any moment."

Cody had to see this with his own eyes. The _Dha Werda Verda_ had been altered from its original _Mando'a_ by his genetic template Jango Fett himself and taught to the clones of Kamino by one of the _Cuy'val Dar_, the mysterious Kal Skirata. Though originally the war chant and dance had only been taught to the troopers that Skirata had trained, the _Dha Werda Verda_ had spread through the clone ranks during the Clone War as a means for the clones to gain some form of cultural tradition. The _mando'a_ culture that had been handed down to them by the Mandalorian Jango Fett and his Mandalorian _Cuy'val_ _Dar_.

As if on cue a large muscular abo at the front of the earthlings let loose a loud, threatening roar. The formation, which Cody noted was made up primarily of males but had a sprinkling of females mixed in, all snapped into the same posture: Crouched at the waist, knees bent, arms resting on their thighs. To a man they adopted a fierce countenance. These were the faces of warriors.

The leader of the group shouted something that sounded crude and ominous in a strange language that Cody didn't recognize as either _Mando'a_ nor Galactic Standard Basic. The formation of protestors moved in unison with a rhythmic chant that echoed across the buildings of the city. They hit their chests and thighs with a thunderous slap.

Up and down the column clonetroopers stared and tried to get a better view of the ritual. Cody's eyes were riveted to the scene. It was like something out of the Mandalorian Wars that had rocked the Old Republic four-thousand years ago.

The impressive display lasted a few minutes before it came to a rousing end. Abos along the roadway who hadn't participated applauded and whistled at their countrymen. A group of nearby _adiik_ younglings tried to imitate the _Haka_ dance of their older countrybeings.

"Major, why haven't you pushed through this crowd? Your convoy is vulnerable in built-up areas like this." Bly asked.

"I know, sir. With Commander Cody's cease-fire in effect we have orders to only blast when blasted upon. I figured that carried over to running abos over with our Juggernauts as well." The Major answered.

"It does. This island hasn't risen up in rebellion like the Target cities and I aim to keep it that way until ordered otherwise but Commander Bly's right, too. You're almost inviting a rebel attack when you're all bunched up like this. We've got to get these abos to move."

"Your orders, Sir?"

"You've got at least a brigade's worth of our _vode_ in these vehicles, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Push out with your security perimeter. See if you can find an alternate route that's not blocked. While you're doing that dismount the rest of the _adade_ and have them form up in parade formation in front of the abos doing that dance of theirs." Cody ordered.

The Major spoke to his own aides who sent the orders via hyperwave transmitters down the column of Imperial vehicles. Within seconds hatches and ramps all along the convoy were dropped or opened and hundreds of clone stormtroopers poured forth. They rushed to the front of the convoy and took up their place in the growing formation of veterans from the Grand Army of the Republic.

The abos who had performed the _Haka_ ritual a moment ago suddenly appeared nervous as they were quickly outnumbered almost three to one by heavily armed clonetroopers. Some of the crowd murmured nervously on the sides of the roadway but out in the blocked intersection you could hear a wookiee's hair drop it was so quiet.

When all of the troopers were in place Cody turned to his _vod._ "Bly, would you care to do the honors?"

"My pleasure." Even though Bly's bucket was on Cody knew his brother was grinning from ear to ear.

The cocky clonetrooper who was CC-5052 strolled out into the front of the orderly ranks of clones. Abos in the crowd pointed out to each other how his armor was different from the other troopers'. At first he stared at the troopers, inspecting the ranks. Then he turned to the earthlings blocking the road. Bly removed his helmet and set it on the ground at his feet. In the formation behind him several dozen other troopers followed his example and removed their buckets as well.

Cody heard whispers throughout the growing crowd as the earthlings realized that all of the men had the same features.

"Twins."

"Doubles?"

"Clones." Someone guessed correctly.

Bly's lone shout cut the silence with a piercing wail. "_Taung sa rang broka Mando'ade ka'rta!_"

Bly dropped into the first position of the _Dha Werda Verda_ which looked suspiciously like the first position of the _Haka_.

Mirroring the Commander perfectly, the hundreds of clones in the formation dropped into the same crouching stance. With a smack across their thigh plates they shouted. "_Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu_,"

WHACK! Their forearm armor smacked across their chest plates, "_Manda'yaim kandosii adu!_"

SMASH! Their arms swung to the left and delivered a full powered blow to the chest plate of the clone standing next to them, "_Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinva!_"

WHAM! Their arms swung to the right with enough controlled discipline to barely prevent broken ribs and hands, "_Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a!_"

The chants of ancient _mando'a_ washed over the crowd. Cody looked at the abo faces, some clearly in shock or fear out of what would happen next, and others in awe of what they were seeing, something the alien invaders were doing that so clearly matched their own tradition.

Bly led them through the next verse of the song. Just as they were finishing the chant the abo who had led the _Haka_ dance started to wave his arms in an upwards motion, encouraging his performers to retain their formation. With a dominating shout the abos resumed their crouched starting position.

This time, with more fervor and intimidation than before, the earthlings launched into their _Haka._

As long as he had known his _Vod_ Bly, Cody had never seen the trooper back down to anyone. Not to Alpha 17, not Jedi Master Quinlan Vos, not even Darth Vader himself. Cody watched as Bly initiated another round of the _Dha Werda Verda_ in an effort to drown out the defiant abos.

Both sides chanted as loudly as they could in an effort to overwhelm the opposing side. The sheer force of their combined voices vibrated Cody's armor plates.

Both the _Haka_ and the _Dha Werda Verda_ involved steps forward and backwards. Because of this Bly and the leader of the abos got almost nose to nose as they shouted their rhythmic chants at each other. The two formations of dancers closed to within a meter of each other.

Just as Cody wondered if they were on the edge of starting a riot, both sides reached the crashing crescendos of their respective war chants at the same time. When it ended it was as if some force had suddenly turned off all the sound in the world.

Bly and the big abo stared at each other. At the same moment they stepped forward. Bly reached out, so did the big muscular abo. They clasped each other's forearms. With a laugh Bly slapped the earthling on his back. Both formations broke as clones mingled with the abos. The crowd along the sidewalks waded in. The clone troopers slung their blasters and laughed and carried on with the natives. Some of the abo dancers demonstrated some of their moves while a clone jokingly showed off how hard he had slapped his brothers during the _Dha Werda Verda_.

A few canines barked and younglings ran in and out of the mixed crowd. A nearby pub brought out some free kegs of beer for everyone. A restaurant whose marquee declared itself the king of burgers in alternate basic had its workers bring out grilled meat sandwiches for the gathering. Cody noted a few grim-faced dissenters on the fringe of the crowd. Cody studied them for a moment to ensure they weren't concealing hold-out slugthrowers of some sort, or worse, Being Bomber bomb vests.

"Commander Cody." The Major said from behind him. Cody turned and saw the officer talking to a pair of his Comm Troopers. "Sir, we found an alternate route on a roadway three blocks west. The convoy coming up from the south is already moving to it.

Cody looked over the crowd to the far roadway. He could just make out several Imperial vehicles maneuvering to turn down a side street. "Very good. Make sure you maintain security here. Swap the boys out so that everyone gets a chance to meet the locals and keep a look out for any hidden weapons on the natives. And don't let any trooper get too drunk that one of the abos conks him over the head. We've still got rebels in the hills. These beings don't love us, yet."

"Roger, roger, sir." The Major moved off. A moment later Cody heard the first Juggernaut engine sputter to life as the column got ready to move out.

A whining engine of a different pitch than the V-wings came from overhead. Cody looked up in time to see a large MAAT/i approaching from orbit. He spotted the markings of his Admiral Commander Bacara on the sides of the craft before it set down on the roof of a nearby building. Many of the earthlings in the crowd noticed the transports arrival and pointed, possibly fearing a new sort of horror about to fall upon them.

A few minutes later the entrance to the building opened outwards. Several purple and white armored Imperial Marines fanned out around the doorway. They were followed by ACC-1138 Bacara, still wearing his old plastoid armor of the last war. Cody had asked him once why he didn't upgrade to the newer anti-ballistic armor while on Earth. Bacara had just told him he feared their enemies in the Fleet more. After Fort Knox, Cody did as well.

Behind Bacara were seven Imperial officers dressed in the gray uniforms of the Imperial Navy. Cody was mildly shocked at the mongrel officers' carelessness. Dressing like that on Earth usually guaranteed a quick trip back to a _MedStar_ Frigate or worse.

"Cody, _Su'cuy_." Bacara greeted him with his strange Concord Dawn accent that set him apart from most clones. Cody saw that the officers following his Admiral disapproved of the undisciplined greeting. Cody didn't care. By their rank squares he outranked all of them. He clasped Bacara's forearm in a traditional Mandalorian welcome.

"Yes, I'm still alive. Though after Fort Knox it's a wonder I'm still here."

"Yes, that was bad." Bacara said, always a clone of few words.

"Who are these officers?" Cody pointed at the men following Bacara. "I don't recognize any of them from the Anoat Squadron." Cody referred to the squadron under their Moff Culter that had spirited so many veterans of the Clone Wars and their families away from the Home Galaxy and the Old Empire.

"Ploo men." Bacara shrugged.

Cody wondered why they were here. The nearest Ploo army units were serving on the ground in Targets East and West thousands of kilometers away. "They're here to serve with you." Bacara said, answering Cody's unspoken question.

"Thanks, but I've already got enough men in my ranks. Men I can trust." Cody said. The mongrel officers shifted on their feet. Several of them sent him menacing glares.

"Theater Commander's orders. They are to serve as Imperial Commissars."

"Commissars? Like political officers? Like the ISB back home?" Cody asked incredulously.

Bacara gave the slightest affirming nod. "Each of these officers is to be assigned to one of your six brigades. This is Major Hurler."

The highest ranking of the officers stepped forward and saluted. "Hail the Empire."

"Um, yes, he is to be attached to your headquarters." Bacara continued. "Commissars are being attached to every brigade-sized unit and above. The Theater Commander Moff Seco has tasked them with ensuring that all orders are issued and carried out with the proper Imperial spirit and intent."

"A word in private, Admiral?" Cody asked.

"Of course." The two clones walked away from the small group of political officers. Cody detected that most of them were looking down their noses at the clones mingling with the abo crowd nearby. Major Hurler was plainly sneering at Cody and Bacara.

"Sir, am I to understand that I'm to run every order past _di'kut_ mongrels who have never experienced heavy combat?" Cody asked.

"Yes, I don't like it either. I've got one of them attached to me aboard the _Fool_ as well. "

"_Kandosii_, I need someone questioning my orders like I need a blaster bolt in the leg."

"That's not the worst news either." Bacara said.

"It gets worse?"

"Gett and Salvo are being reassigned with their Legions. I need you to transfer two brigades down south to maintain the siege of Wellington. Keep two brigades up north to maintain pressure on Auckland and your remaining pair of units will have to be utilized to hold down the countryside in between."

Cody felt like he had just been hit in the gut by the news. "That leaves me stretched pretty thin, sir. One Legion to do the work of three?"

"Seco's orders. The Commissars are supposed to help with the local populace."

"Admiral, they look like clones of the old ISB. Their methods won't endear us to the local New Zealanders. And just where are Gett and Salvo being sent to?"

"Target East and West. Moff Seco is setting up what he's calling a 'Surge' of troops and equipment for a breakout of both cities in the next few days. The 32nd and the Sarlacc Legions will be part of that." Bacara explained.

"What's the rush? I thought the Theater Commander was happy enough for the stormtroopers to sit on their _shebs_ and wait out a surrender from the earthlings?"

"Something's up. Someone convinced the Moff that the Earth wasn't about to surrender. I hear the Princess got under his skin on his last visit to Mars."

"So he thinks if he captures more cities and destroys their armies he'll achieve victory?"

"Perhaps. I don't like my boys being used on the frontlines like this, either." Bacara confided. "Emperor Yos promised us we wouldn't be used as blaster fodder."

"I haven't heard anything from the Emperor in weeks."

"He doesn't like to get his hands dirty with the war here. Yos prefers to leave everything in Moff Seco's supposedly capable hands. You'll note all of the Commissars are from the Ploo Squadron?" Bacara pointed out.

"They are? Something's fishy about that."

"I agree. Don't trust them any further than you can throw them."

"Yes, sir. If I'm stuck with them then I'll make stang sure to keep a close eye on them."

"Do that." Bacara turned and walked back to the mongrel officers.

"I look forward to working with you men." Cody lied.

"As do we." Major Hurler responded for the group. Cody was positive the man was lying as well.

"What the hell is this poodoo!" Bly's electrified voice came from the crowd. Cody watched as his _vod_ came charging through the mixed group of abos and clones, making his way directly towards Bacara. In his agitated state Bly almost didn't take the outstretched hand that Bacara offered him. Only at the last second did he clasp the Admiral Commander's forearm. "Now what is kriffing going on, sir? I just got a message from my aide in Indonesia that he just received a Commissar officer into my unit of Forward Observers."

"It's true, CC-5052. Moff Seco has assigned us to monitor all commands given by you clones." Major Hurler answered before anyone else could. Cody didn't like the way the mongrel officer said the word clones, as if it were something to be scraped off the bottom of his boot.

"Who are you?" Bly demanded.

"He's my Commissar. We all get one." Cody answered.

"It's not even my Life-Day. What is the return policy on my present?" Bly stated flatly. Bacara snorted, which was the biggest laugh Cody had ever seen anyone get out of the Admiral.

"CC-2224 I must protest on the presence of so many independent, near-human Terrans in our vicinity. Wouldn't the Empire be better served if your clones started incarcerating them until such a time as Operation _Piper_ resumes?" Major Hurler said. The mongrel's tone dripped with the sort of speciesism and anti-clone hostility that Cody had hoped had been left behind in the Old Empire. Evidently High-Human Culture had made it through the 'big jump' along with everything else.

"It wouldn't be wise, Major. The abos around here haven't risen up against us yet. Except for a minor orbital bombardment against Wellington a couple of months ago and our recent occupation they've been largely spared the horrors of this war. I see no reason to set them off and get more of my troopers killed." Cody tried to explain.

"Your clones serve the Empire, whether under Emperor Yos or Emperor Palpatine. They are expected to do their duty. Any danger to them will pass as soon as the local populace is placed in new camps." Hurler argued.

"How will we guard them? With Gett and Salvo taking their Legions away the 212th is going to be pretty kriffing thin on the ground. Especially if we incite the rest to revolt against us and have to hold the countryside down." Cody said.

"That won't be a concern. The Terrans outside the Target cities will surrender when Moff Seco's Surge goes into effect. Operation _Piper_ will resume as soon as the quarantine is lifted. I must inform you under the charter given to us by the Theater Commander that we have the military right to countermand any orders you or your officers may issue when required."

"And who says when they're required?" Bly asked.

"We do." The menace in Hurler's voice was unmistakable. "Failing to follow a Commissar's orders or showing cowardice or incompetence in battle can result in summary field punishments up to and including imprisonment or execution."

"You're going to put a noodle in the back of one of my troopers' heads if he doesn't do as Moff Seco wishes?" Bly asked again.

"As the Emperor wishes. We live to serve the Empire." Hurler answered.

Cody looked to Bacara to see if this was true. The Admiral shrugged, indicating there was nothing he could do.

"Our first order is to start rounding up the Terrans gathered here in this roadway. I believe they were blocking the passage of legal military traffic." Hurler said.

Cody just nodded that it was so. He wanted so badly to draw his sidearm and put a bolt between the Imperial officer's eyes.

"Excellent. Order your clones to start rounding up the enemy."

Cody looked into the Major's eyes for a moment. One day he hoped he would have the chance to kill this man. He spoke into his comm, sending out his instructions to the junior officers and NCOs in the crowd.

Within minutes shouts and screams were heard amongst the previously peaceful earthlings. Troopers were rounding up and slapping stuncuffs of the first few abos they had grabbed. Cody's orders were to seize whatever earthlings they could. He didn't order his troopers to enter homes or businesses or give pursuit to the hundreds of earthlings that were suddenly fleeing in all directions.

When the troopers brought in a meager few dozen captured natives, most of them elderly or out of shape, the Commissars seemed pleased. "You see CC-2224, now the Terrans will learn to fear the Empire. They must be shown that they will be punished for impeding Imperial will." Major Hurler said.

Suddenly a trooper was knocked over as a slug hit him in the chest plate. Every clone hit the ground as the distant snap of a slugthrower was heard. The Commissars remained standing, either too stupid or too stubborn to realize they were in danger.

"Yes, they're learning how to deal with us all right, Major." Cody said as he crawled behind one of a nearby Juggernaut's wheels for protection from incoming sniper blasts. Bly and Bacara joined him. A second later the lead Juggernaut let loose with its heavy laser cannon turret on an office building a quarter of a kilometer away. Two more Juggernauts joined in. Their blasts echoing across the city like thunder during a summer storm.

Somebody called cease-blasting and a squad of troopers went into the building to clear it out. Cody received a comm call from the sergeant in charge, reporting that they had found the sniper's nest but the abo had vacated it long before they had arrived.

A mortar round landed on top of a nearby Juggernaut. Troopers scrambled to deal with the new threat. The Commissars started giving orders to the troopers to execute the prisoners. When they didn't move fast enough Major Hurler grabbed a prisoner and marched him to the open roadway ahead of the column. Cody could feel the hundreds of hidden abo eyes that must have been watching the Major from their hiding places.

"This is what you get for resisting the Empire!" Major Hurler shouted into the city. He pulled his sidearm and blasted the older abo in the back of the head. The old man collapsed into a heap at the Major's feet. Hurler spun around and walked purposely back to the line of Juggernauts.

"Alright Troopers, mount up. We're moving out." Cody ordered the gathered clones. The sooner he got out of the city the better. Troopers by the hundreds sprinted for their vehicles. Within a minute the first Juggernaut's engine was chugging to life as the massive, wheeled vehicles started to move out. The rest of the column followed.

Bacara returned to his transport as Cody and Bly along with their new Commissars and their Lancer escort shot back north on their speederbikes. Behind them a city prepared itself to resist the Empire.

Cody switched his comm in his HUD to speak directly to Bly. "I've got a bad feeling about this."


	49. Dusel 4

**Target West, Imperial Front lines along G2 Jinghu Expressway, Beitang, PRC, Earth**

"Why now, Luke?" Dusel asked the Deck Chief who was helping him.

"Corp?" The Deck Chief didn't understand what Dusel what getting at.

The two of them were outside their walker in the early morning darkness. The sky was barely turning to gray and purple in the east with promises of a sunny day ahead. Dusel and the Deck Chief were frantically trying to change out a malfunctioning terrain impulse sensor on their left forward leg of the AT-AT. The walker, Monkey 9, was squatting down in the prone position somewhere in the Imperial entrenchments surrounding Target West, Shanghai has the local abos called it. They were both sitting astride the large durasteel leg between the machine's knee and giant footpad.

"This doesn't feel like the usual 'Hurry-up-and-wait' routine the army normally pulls on us. This feels like the real thing." Dusel explained as he pounded a magclamp into place with his dynamic hammer.

"Something's up, that's for sure. Been a while since we've had to take stormies aboard." The Deck Chief pointed back to the side of their walker's hull. The port loading hatch of the AT-AT was dropped into a position that resembled a ramp into a nearby trench. Forty stormtroopers were in the process of boarding and storing their gear inside the hull.

"Don't know what crawled up the Theater Commander's _shebs_ that's got him all blaster-happy to move us over to the attack again. I was more than content to stay behind our energy shield."

"You don't think this is going to be another blue milk run like taking Target West was?" The Deck Chief asked.

"By the Emperor, no. Hand me that hydrospanner would you?" Dusel pointed to their tool kit. "The abos out on the other side of the NBL have been digging in like a Sarlacc. It's not gonna be a blast digging them out again."

The Deck Chief paused and considered what Dusel was saying. "It'll be alright, I hope."

"Me too."

They both looked up as they heard the faint crump of footsteps behind them. Dusel had his sidearm pulled before he completely spun around. The Deck Chief already had his E-11 blaster rifle to his shoulder as they both faced the newcomer emerging out of the darkness.

Dusel breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a figure dressed in the Imperial Army Pilot armor of an AT-AT crewman. He was even happier when he recognized that it was his buddy Malm. The Imperial Gunner came as close as he could on the ground and looked up at the pair of them. He held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Feirfek, Malm, you scared the poodoo out of me. I thought you were a Being Bomber for a second." For over a month now the local Chinese had been attempting to hinder the Empire by strapping bombs on the fanatically suicidal amongst their populace. During that time every trooper in Target West, and East from what Dusel had heard, had been on edge against an attack that could come out of anywhere at any time.

"If I was one of those kriffing lunatics I'd try to set myself off on the loading hatch amongst all the boys-in-white back there." So far a Being Bomber hadn't been able to damage an AT-AT but that hadn't been for lack of trying. Even on supposedly secured routes suicide raids were made almost daily on walkers moving between the front and the Imperial Garrison complexes that ringed the city. "The Major is looking for you. The limmie ball is going to drop on this offensive in twenty minutes."

"We're almost done with our repairs." Unlike their wheeled cousins, the Juggernauts, the AT-ATs weren't constant occupants of the Imperial maintenance bays. But if you put this many moving parts and top them with such immense weight something was bound to give sooner or later. In a combat zone you took care of your ride before you took care of yourself. Dusel remembered that lesson that had been drilled into his head by his drill instructors on Carida.

"How much longer? If you make us late for H-Hour the Major will have your _shebs,_ he will." Malm warned.

"Ten minutes. Just got to make sure the shock absorbers are realigned. If not, she could kriffing keel over right as we set out."

"You've got five. I'll stall Major Wells. Just frakking hurry." Malm said before spinning around and jogging back to the loading hatch. A few seconds later he disappeared into the hull. Dusel noted most of the stormtroopers were already aboard and getting strapped into their cargo seats. A pair of them stood in the darkness of the hatch enjoying one last cigarra before the battle.

"Start packing up the tools, Luke." Dusel told the Deck Chief. The young trooper jumped down to the ground and started to gather up their loose gear and pack it into the tool kit they had brought outside.

Dusel moved with the comfort of one raised around the massive machinery housed on Chandrilan agricombines his whole life. He grunted when he pushed each of the two giant shock absorbers back into place. The Deck Chief handed Dusel the balance attenuator which he laid across the coiling mass of flexisteel shock absorbers. Thankfully they only needed a few minor adjustments before they were counterbalanced.

Dusel tossed the attenuator down to the Deck Chief. "Take the tools and get on board."

"Sure thing, Corp." Luke slung the kit over his shoulder and ran towards the loading hatch.

Dusel sat on his _shebs_ and placed his boots along the edge of the durasteel plate they had removed for access to the lower leg compartment. He took a deep breath and then stomped down hard on the heavy plate with both of his legs. The plate slid a few centimeters. Dusel repeated his action methodically. Each time the durasteel armor plate moved a little further into its proper place.

Finally, after a few dozen kicks the plate slammed into place with an audible clang. Dusel hurried to clasp shut the restraint clamps that fastened the armor into place. Once that was done he hurled himself down to the ground. Landing unevenly, he caught the side of the AT-AT's leg to balance himself. "That's right girl. You watch out for me and I'll watch out for you." He told the silent war machine that had been his home for over two months now.

He made sure he wasn't forgetting anything before turning and running towards the hatch. In the slowly brightening eastern sky he noticed a red star. Mars, he figured as he ran. His new home and Empire. So far away from peaceful Chandrila, he reminded himself, momentarily missing a family he had resigned himself to never seeing again.

Ten arrow-shaped gray starships moved into orbital position high above the AT-AT driver. Their hulls caught the morning sun as they maneuvered in the upper atmosphere.

Dusel got to the hatch and jogged up its durasteel plates. The Deck Chief who had been helping him waited at the hatch controls. As soon as he saw Dusel he hit the close icon on the hatch's control display. The hatch started to slowly rise with Dusel still on it. Dusel sprinted into the hull compartment . The inside of the walker was lit by a series of red lights so that light pollution didn't give away their position.

The stormtroopers were talking and laughing amongst themselves when he came aboard. The twenty on the lower deck of the walker recognized who he was and what his presence meant. The hatch shut behind him with a loud bang. The stormtroopers suddenly got deathly serious. They locked and loaded their blaster rifles with tibanna clips and removed the safeties from their weapons. Dusel squeezed through the crowded hull as he made his way forward.

"Strap in!" Luke yelled to the stormtroopers, who took their seats and started fastening their crash webbing around themselves.

Dusel ducked as he moved into the 'neck' of the walker. He entered the cockpit where Malm and the AT-AT commander Major Wells, were already at their stations. Major Wells just cocked an eyebrow as Dusel moved past him. "Driver, take your position."

"Yes, sir." Dusel walked past his commander, avoiding his gaze.

"Are the repairs complete?" The Major asked.

"Yes, sir. Monkey 9 is a go." Dusel responded.

"Excellent. Start engines, Driver. Gunner, prime and load all weapons."

"Yes, sir." Dusel and Malm answered in concert.

Dusel flipped through the dozen or so switches in the precise order that were required to start the compact fusion drive system that powered the walker. He flipped on his terrain mapper that showed the shell-torn and cratered ground ahead of them in a 3D holoimage across the lenses of his HUD. Compass bearings, ranges, ground composition estimates, and a dozen other readings aligned themselves along the edges of his HUD. With a practiced motion he flicked his eyelids at the icons until he had minimized and cleaned up most of the clutter that partially blocked his forward view.

Next to him Malm went through his own routine. The Gunner primed and charged each of the powerful MS-1 fire-linked heavy laser cannons in the chin of the walker's head before doing the same to the two medium repeating blasters that were mounted on both sides of the cockpit. His partner activated the targeting computer which activated a 3D 360 degree holoimage of the area around the walker out to a few kilometers. Thousands of stormtroopers and vehicles were moving forward in the Imperial fortifications to their own start lines. "Gunner ready."

The vibrations of the engine steadily increased as the fusion drive came to full power. "Driver ready." Dusel reported.

"Driver, take us up." Major Wells ordered. The commander reached over and engaged the sensor array that from the front gave the head of the walker the appearance of having a solitary red eye. If the enemy hadn't already spotted the AT-AT in their night-viewers the abos surely would notice them now. Hopefully the local sun coming over the horizon behind them soon would blind the enemy somewhat.

Dusel engaged the front legs first, lifting both legs upwards before digging in with the foot pads. He toggled the floor pedals with his feet to get the giant machine to push itself out of the prone position. The three men lurched back in their seats as the front legs stretched upwards. His hands moved instinctively as he switched drives and brought the rear legs to a standing position.

Dusel turned his head and watched outside to better grasp how his walker was doing. Without checking his instruments he could tell by feel that she was ready to go.

He spotted several more walkers from the Monkey Force Squadron that were slowly coming to their foot pads. Tan dust rose around the walkers, some of it clinging to the morning dew that covered their hulls.

"Driver, engage inertial dampers." Wells ordered.

Dusel reached over and flipped the switch even as he wondered about the strange command. Usually that system was left powered off during maneuvers. As if reading his thoughts, Wells explained. "Give the troopers in the cargo hold some artificial grav so they don't suffer any motion sickness before contact with the enemy."

"Ready to do this, Buddy?" Malm's voice cut across the internal speakers of Dusel's helmet. Dusel's eyed the comm icon in his HUD to make sure Malm was talking somewhere Major Wells couldn't overhear them.

"Yeah, I guess. It'll be a lot different than just staring at them every day. Think they'll put up more of a fight this time?" Dusel had thought that his jeeblies would have disappeared after they had secured Target West but his stomach was starting to once again feel like it was full of Rylothean fire butterflies.

_Calm yourself. Control your nerves. Just follow orders and everything will be all right._ Dusel told himself.

On the holoimager panel between the two AT-AT pilots a blue figure suddenly appeared. Dusel jumped slightly at the unexpected intrusion. He was on edge. He wondered if Malm wasn't feeling it too or whether his friend was just better at hiding it than him.

Dusel glanced at the figure, the new Commissar officer that had been attached to Monkey 1 a few days ago. "All Monkey Force Squadron walkers sitrep." the 3D image ordered. Dusel wondered why the High Colonel in the lead walker wasn't making the request.

"Monkey 9 ready." Major Wells stated.

They waited a moment. Evidently the figure was getting reports from all of the walkers in Monkey Force Squadron. "Monkey Force walkers will advance in line formation on a bearing of three one zero. First objective line is enemy front line at Changzhou in H+10 minutes. H-Hour in six standard minutes. Hail the Empire."

"Hail the Empire." The three cockpit crew dutifully echoed. It had been quickly noted that not showing the proper Imperial spirit around the new Commissars was a bad move. The figure saluted and then vanished.

"Stang Commissars. Who needs them? All Ploo officers, too. Aren't we a Ploo Squadron unit? Why'd we get one of them attached to us?" Malm asked Dusel across their secured comm.

"Beats me. Ours is not to reason why, but to do or die. Something like that." Dusel answered as he looked through his sights to make out the first objective line eight kilometers away.

"Sounds like a bunch of Carida poodoo to me. Some nonsense they fill your head with during training." Malm chuckled, then quickly clicked off their channel. Dusel knew his friend did this when he was monitoring comm traffic on other hyperwaves and took no offense. "Fleet is a go for bombardment in ten seconds." Malm reported aloud to the Commander.

The three men in the cockpit leaned forward and peered out of their forward viewport. Long shadows were shrinking across no-being's-land all the way to the distant enemy fortifications. The rising sun behind them transformed the landscape from a dull, dimensionless gray to light brown and even shades of green.

A flash of lightning struck somewhere near the Chinese frontline. Except this lightning came down as straight as a stylus. The lightning was quickly followed by hundreds of its kin as the Chinese entrenchments exploded.

High above the Chinese positions, ten Star Destroyers pounded a corridor two kilometers wide and ten kilometers long straight through the enemy. To Dusel it looked like an electrified rainstorm of death and destruction.

"No being could live through that." Malm said.

"I wouldn't be so sure. If they weren't tough would we still be here?" Dusel asked.

"They're nothing but a bunch of abos, don't forget that." Malm reminded him. Dusel tried to convince himself that his friend was right. Just about everyone in the squadron felt the same way. You didn't hear anything about the earthlings on the HoloNews except how backwards and primitive they were. Yet every day they got better and better at killing troopers. Maybe there was something to that, he thought.

"H-Hour in one minute. Driver, prepare to move out." Wells said from his position behind the two AT-AT pilots.

"Roger, roger." Dusel noticed the bombardment was starting to move deeper into the Chinese lines. An entire section of their forward positions had been smashed from orbit, forming a giant corridor for the Imperial forces to pour through. Dusel released the magnetic braking clamps on the dual-drive system that moved the walker's legs.

Platoons of AT-STs surged out of the Imperial lines, heading for the gap. Scout troopers on their speederbikes swarmed across the NBL and into the decimated Chinese fortifications.

"Driver, move forward. Assault speed if you would. Gunner scan for targets." The commander ordered.

Dusel jostled his foot pedals and hand controls. The right front leg moved forward with a dampened thud. With the inertial dampers on the familiar sway was lost on the cockpit crew as Monkey 9 left her forward position and strolled over the top of several blastbays that marked the Empire's forward lines.

The rest of Monkey Force Squadron moved on their flanks. On the targeting computer Dusel could see hundreds of Imperial transports laden with stormtroopers following in their wake. Outside the viewport he could make out various other squadrons of AT-ATs maneuvering forward to the northeast and southwest.

"Sir, we are at the energy shield." Dusel announced. He tried to sense the invisible shield that his walker was approaching. He felt nothing but his sensors told him the instant his AT-AT made contact with the ray shielding. An IFF device let Monkey 9 pass through the shield with no noticeable effect.

"Driver, bring us into line with Monkey 7 and move us to that spur ahead." Wells ordered. Dusel pulled Monkey 9 alongside her sister walker.

Great clouds of smoke towered over the enemy lines ahead of them. Steam rose and then settled as a thick fog that hugged the ground. The orbital bombardment ceased as Imperial scouts reached the Chinese fortifications. Dusel was surprised to see dozens and then hundreds of blaster bolts flash across the approaching battle zone. Red slugs reached out towards the advancing Imperials from what was supposed to be destroyed enemy positions.

"Scouts are reporting enemy contact. Multiple lightfights all up and down the line, sir." Malm reported.

"What? That wasn't the plan. We're not to expect enemy contact until we meet their relief columns well inside their lines." Wells stated in shock. The commander lowered his own sights and studied the lines.

"Gunner, it looks like the scouts are pulling back. Scan for any machine-slugthrower nests or anti-landspeeder cannon you can find."

"Roger, roger, sir. Target bunker, range eight point three zero, identified." Malm answered at once. Evidently he had been anticipating Wells's order and had already picked out his first target.

"Blast." Wells ordered.

"On the way." Malm sent two heavy bolts down range. Dusel squinted to follow their path. When the bolts impacted eight kilometers away they sent a small fountain of dirt, debris and what he assumed where earthlings into the sky. He wasn't sure but he didn't see any return slugfire come from that part of the line so he guessed Malm must have hit whatever he was aiming at.

"Hit." Wells verified. "Blast at will, Gunner."

"Yes, sir!" Malm responded to the command every Gunner loved to hear.

Even with the inertial dampers on Dusel felt through his boots the chin cannons rocking back and forth in their carriages underneath the cockpit. All twelve of Monkey Force's AT-ATs advanced undeterred into the enemy resistance. Their heavy blaster bolts slammed again and again into the Chinese lines.

Small, 'cabler' missiles raced towards the walkers as their Chinese operators guided them by wire into the advancing Imperials. AT-PTs raced ahead to engage the launch sites that had been given away by their projectiles' smoking exhaust trails. Ahead of Monkey 9 an AT-ST was on the receiving end of a missile and a heavy anti-vehicle slug in the same instant. The head of the smaller walker ruptured from internal explosions as the blast vaporized the two-man crew.

Dusel was about to point out where the rocket had come from when a TIE/sa bomber dove on the enemy position from above. The ground erupted in a geyser of mud where the bomber had dropped its stick of proton ordnance.

"How are the kriffing earthlings responding so quickly? They couldn't have rushed reinforcements from their flanks this quickly." Wells pondered.

"Maybe they dug in, sir?" Dusel said.

"To escape orbital bombardment? Do you know how deep they had to dig their bunkers to survive?"

_Deep enough_. Dusel thought.

To save Dusel from having to form an actual response the western horizon, still shrugging off the last visages of darkness, suddenly lit up. It looked to Dusel as if someone had suddenly lit off an million Empire Day fireworks at once, or dropped a million bombs. The Empire hadn't touched of the light show.

"Incoming!" Malm warned. "Heavy slug and missile projectiles, targeting computer is still counting how many."

Wells flipped a switch on the comm panel letting him speak across the AT-ATs internal voice-throwers. "All hands brace for impact. Everyone strap in!" he yelled.

Dusel hoped the Deck Chiefs and the stormtroopers in the back were listening. He gasped as he spotted the tens of thousands of vapor trails and smoke columns of the incoming strike as they clawed their way towards him in the lower atmosphere.

"Monkey 1 is ordering all walkers to scatter." Malm reported.

"Driver, evasive action." Wells said.

Dusel saw the entire sky full of slugs racing at him and wondered exactly where the commander expected him to go. Dusel had never had a lot of faith in the Force but somehow he found himself suddenly wishing that it was with them at this particular moment.

Sporadically some of the missiles fell from the sky as TIE/WACs in orbit jammed their guidance systems. AT-AAs raked plasma anti-airspeeder blasts across the sky in a vain hope to knock some of the incoming strike down. Back behind the energy shield SPHA-m and AT-APs started returning highly effective counter-battery fire on the enemy-launch-sites.

But it was too little too late. Heavy slugs slammed into the attacking Imperials. Missiles broke apart over the Imperial advance, releasing hundreds of thousands of tiny bomblets that burst across the face of the Imperial forces.

Dusel felt an impact on the side of the hull and the slug was big enough to ring the walker like a giant bell. Another slug that must have been designed to destroy terran, aquatic battleships burst between two 2M _Sabre_ repulsor tanks ahead of them. It pierced one of their deflector shields and cracked the vehicle's hull. Internal explosions ripped that vehicle apart as the other one was thrown with enough force to flip it over. Dusel was amazed to see a figure crawl out of the overturned hovertank and dash back to the Imperial lines.

Smaller slugs continued to rain down around Dusel's walker and it sounded like racing full speed through an asteroid field. "May the Force be with us, May the Force be with us, May the Force be with us." Dusel heard someone chanting and was surprised when he recognized the voice as Malm's. His gunner was merely giving voice to what many of them in the walker were likely thinking.

It was a relief to find out that he wasn't the only one scared out of his mind. "How they get so many slugthrowers?" Dusel asked his friend. Malm didn't have a chance to respond as just then another large slug rang off the side of their hull.

"They've had two of our months, three of theirs, to get ready. We've barely touched them during that time." A new voice said from behind them. Dusel spun around to see a stormtrooper officer bending down to watch the bombardment through the viewport. "It was kriffing astral of the Theater Commander to let them get set up for us like this." The officer cursed.

"Not the proper Imperial spirit, Lieutenant. I'd hate for you to be overheard by one of our new Commissars." Major Wells warned. For a moment Dusel feared the AT-AT commander would turn in the stormtrooper for saying what they were all thinking.

"Negative, sir. I've got the proper attitude. This is just a bunch of poodoo that might get some of my boys killed is all."

"Driver, range to first objective?" Wells turned away from the stormtrooper.

"Three point five zero, Sir." Throughout the bombardment Dusel had kept the walker ambling forward at an attack speed of just around thirty kph. "We're almost to that spur ahead."

"Gunner, suppress that spur with the medium blasters. If they've got any artillery observers on it I want them to keep their heads down."

"Roger, roger." Malm responded as the 'ear' blasters raked the forward slope of the approaching, steam-covered hill.

"Lieutenant, prepare your men for the assault. We will be dropping you off as soon as we pierce their lines."

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant saluted and left via the flexible neck of the walker.

"Sir, Monkey 4 has dropped out. Monkey 6 is holding in an overwatch position." Malm reported as he monitored the hyperspace.

"Acknowledged." The Major passively responded.

Dusel switched over to their more private comm channel. "Malm, man what happened to Monkey 4?" He looked over at the targeting computer that showed holoimages of stormtroopers bailing out of its hull. There was a large gash seen across its neck and Monkey 6 was providing cover for a LAAT/a that was landing nearby with a team of field medics.

"Took a big missile to the side of her head, burnt through the transfer tunnel. Comm traffic is saying it didn't pierce the cockpit armor but the hit killed the gunner and the commander. The driver's pretty messed up, too."

"Could have been us." Dusel peeked up the hill. Machine-slugthrowers winked to life in the smoke as their fiery lines of red slugs reached out for the closing walkers. The rain of heavy slugs was starting to wane as the Chinese artillery attempted to shift position or were systematically wiped out by incoming Imperial counter-battery fire.

"Well, thank the Emperor it wasn't. Damn good guys in Monkey 4. We went drinking with them back at the garrison in Shanghai and back up on Mars a couple of times." Malm said.

"Yeah, good guys." Dusel said sadly picturing the faces of friends he had who were serving aboard the disabled walker.

"Keep your head in the limmie match, buddy. These abos are getting frisky."

Ahead of them AT-STs and repulsor tanks raced over the spur and into the next draw. Resistance was scattered at best. Their trenches and bunkers had been shattered and a hell of a lot of Chinese abos had been caught on the surface when the morning's preparatory bombardment had begun.

"Driver, halt." Wells said

Dusel brought the massive beast to a complete stop. Malm continued to engage infantry targets that were falling back to another line of entrenchments. They moved like gray ghosts through the smoke and mist. Some stayed and fought to give time to their retreating comrades. Dusel respected such a sacrifice even though he stayed silent as the stubborn Chinese were blasted in place.

"Deck Chiefs, lower the stormtroopers."

"Yes, sir." The voices of the two Deck Chiefs echoed each other over the comm. Somewhere in the hull behind them Dusel knew the stormtroopers were being fitted into the walker's two sets of rappelling cable harnesses. They were then lowered two at a time to the ground in several rapid waves. Boom racks were extended out of the loading hatches by the Deck Chiefs and heavy equipment was dropped to the waiting stormtroopers. If all went as planned it would take just over two minutes to unload forty stormtroopers..

Dusel watched nervously out the viewport as the stormtroopers fanned out and went to ground for protection below him. He didn't like standing in one place for so long during a battle. It gave the enemy too much time to bring something up to the front that was capable of hurting his girl, Monkey 9, or worse, killing him.

"Monkey 9, this is Rancor 3-3. Comm check" The lieutenant in charge of their stormtroopers called in from the ground.

"Rancor 3-3, this is Monkey 9, read you just wizard." Malm responded.

"Monkey 9 be advised, we have all sort of chemical alarms going off. Looks like the Chinese left us a gassy present before they fell back."

"Understood, Rancor 3-3. Thanks for the heads up." Malm said. Dusel was thankful for the atmospheric scrubbers inside the walker.

"Driver, move out. Patrol speed. I don't want to lose our escort." Wells ordered. Stretched out over a half kilometer the other walkers of Monkey Force Squadron were offloading their own stormtroopers. Thousands of Imperial transports disgorged their cargo as the Imperial Army began the tedious task of clearing the trench lines of resistance. Dusel had been told that they planned to cut through the Chinese lines like a lightsaber. Now they were cutting through them at the pace of a hobbled Hutt.

Chinese troopers fell back with reluctance. They seemed to want to hold every shell hole and crater all the way back to Changzhou. The AT-AT squadrons on the flanks of the Imperial advance had to fend off wave after wave of armored and mechanized thrusts from outside the blast corridor. It was reported that one Chinese tanker was successful in knocking out two AT-ARs before being forced to retreat by the arrival of the AT-ATs of Dog Force Squadron. Dusel hoped all the Chinese weren't as lucky as that particular abo.

Dusel felt a sudden vibration in his controls as the front left leg of his walker came down. His footpad terrain sensor started chiming an alarm.

"Monkey 9, you have entered a mine field, repeat you have entered a mine field." Rancor 3-3's voice cut across the comm.

"Can you identify the threat, Rancor 3-3?" Wells asked.

"It looks like a mixed bag of anti-crawler and anti-trooper booby-traps. We're spotting pressure-release and remote detonators all over the place, not to mention a whole destroyer full of tripwires. It's going to take us a good while to clear this field." The stormtrooper reported from the ground beneath them.

"Understood, Rancor 3-3." Malm answered after Wells stayed silent.

Wells looked as if he was lost in thought. Confusion twisted his features. "This was all supposed to be gone. The Star Destroyers were supposed to blast us a secure corridor to pass through the enemy. Why are they coming up from the ground? How are there still mines?"

Dusel wondered if the commander was starting to crack up. It seemed as if everyone in high command had underestimated the earthlings.

"Sir, no plan survives contact with the enemy." Malm said. "Maybe they have some kind of slugthrower that can blast mines into an area or maybe they laid a cruiser's full of them as they fell back from this area."

"We've got to get moving, Sir." Dusel added. He hated sitting out in the open like this. Already he could see Monkeys 8 and 10 working their way around the edges of the large minefield on both of his flanks.

"It looks like a lot of the mines were destroyed from orbit, Sir." Malm pointed out the viewport indicating hundreds of small craters that looked recently created. Fleet just didn't let on a thick enough bombardment. It's not like they were going for a Base Delta Zero."

"I would hope not. The Armor Corps is still dirtside." Wells seemed to recover from his lapse in composure. "Gunner, engage the ground in front of our walker with all four cannon. Let's see if we can't plow a roadway, shall we?"

"Yes, sir." Malm said, He dipped the head as far down as he could and started blasting the dirt in front of them. Soil erupted in every direction as the super-heated laser bolts detonated mine after mine.

"Driver, is there any danger to the walker?" Wells asked.

"No, sir, there shouldn't be. The crawlers and smaller walkers might have a problem but we haven't come across an abo mine yet that can put a dent in an AT-AT." Dusel replied, hoping he was telling the truth.

"Excellent. Move out. Patrol speed still. Gunner comm the stormtroopers and have them fall in behind us. Tell squadron we are blasting a path through this quagmire."

"Yes, sir." Malm responded eagerly.

The walker made its way slowly across the broken, dangerous ground. Sporadic slugfire rattled against the hull as fleeing Chinese troopers blasted away at the large target. The stormtroopers on the ground stayed close to their support; skittering between the footpads of Monkey 9 as she made her way forward. On the target computers Dusel watched as the stormtroopers occasionally went to ground or sought cover behind the legs of the walker to protect themselves from incoming slugs.

It was a slow grind. The AT-AT's air-scrubbers were going at full blast and the mid-day sun heated the sides of the hull to a temperature that would have made a sandperson sweat. Nobody said anything but Dusel knew they were several hours behind schedule.

"We're coming to the edge of the minefield, sir. All sensors are green. Looks like we made it through alright." Dusel reported. There had been several heavy explosions that had shaken the walker during her traverse of the deadly ground but nothing that had caused any damage. _Thank the Emperor for that_, Dusel thought.

"Excellent. It appears that Monkey 10 has the lead." Major Wells indicated their sister walker that had skirted the edges of the minefield instead of blasting her way across. The other AT-AT stood on top of a small ridge ahead of them blasting at targets that couldn't be seen by the crew of Monkey 9. "They're moving out again. Bring us into a support position on their right flank, Driver."

"Yes, sir." The stormtroopers on the ground fanned out as they emerged from the minefield. Some of them sprinted ahead of the walkers and dove into shell holes before starting to blast at abo targets ahead of the advance. Several other walkers followed the path they had carved out and as soon as Monkey 9 cleared her bulk from the exit a trio of AT-STs raced around her and charged over the ridge ahead.

Dusel brought his walker to the top of the ridge. Below them stood the smoking ruins of the once proud abo city of Changzhou. As far as Dusel could tell there was hardly a structure in the entire city that remained standing. The wide ribbon of blue that was the Yangtze River bordered the city to the north. Wings of TIE/sa bombers dove on targets on the far shore as Imperial artillery continued to pound the doomed urban center.

From their position the crew of Monkey 9 could see the extent of the Imperial advance. Several brigades had pushed west of Changzhou, skirting along its southern neighborhoods and threatened to encircle the city against the river. Dusel spotted several columns of Chinese troopers trying to escape the trap to the west.

"Driver, stop." Wells ordered.

Dusel wondered why. There weren't any evident threats to Monkey Force Squadron at this location and the city ahead of them seemed ripe for the picking. Dusel brought the mighty walker to a halt. Across the ridge dozens of walkers still fought their way through the jumbled and confused quagmire that had been the Chinese entrenchments. The enemy continued to fight for every meter of ground. Dusel looked at his chromo and sighed when he realized that after eight hours of fighting they still hadn't broken into the city that was supposed to have fallen within a couple of hours.

"Sir, can the Driver move up? I have no targets here." Malm asked.

"We have orders to wait for ten minutes at this ridge. Fleet has something special in store for the enemy." Wells replied.

Something special indeed. As the commander finished his statement hundreds of heavy turbolaser bolts slammed into the Chinese metropolis. The ground buckled and bulged as city blocks were torn loose and flung kilometers into the air. A smoke cloud that resembled a Fantazi mushroom rose high into the atmosphere over Changzhou. The orbital strike was so massive that debris hit the energy shield around Target West almost fifteen kilometers to their rear. Dusel was shocked as he witnessed the firepower of ten combined Star Destroyers on one focused target.

_We murdered them_, he thought.

The dust and debris cloud rolled out of the crater that was once Changzhou, covering the shattered Chinese troopers and vehicles that were still in front of the city. An easterly breeze blew the billowing cloud towards the ridge and enveloped the Imperial advance. Suddenly Dusel and Malm found themselves relying on their instruments as Monkey 9 was enveloped by a swirling dust storm.

"Driver, move out. Fleet only planned for a single volley. The city should be ours for the taking." Wells said.

Dusel went through the motions of driving the walker but his heart wasn't in it any longer. He had just watched his Empire wipe a city of near-human beings off the face of the Earth. The sheer magnitude of that horror pulled at him.

A heavy slug ricocheted off the command cockpit and the sound jolted him back to the task at hand. Malm sat beside him, sending blasts of medium cannon fire into the swirling dust storm around them. Dusel couldn't make out their targets through the maelstrom. Occasionally he caught glimpses of the stormtroopers on the ground rushing forward through the smoke and dust beneath them. Their blaster fire quickly disappeared in the being-made storm.

Dusel wasn't sure how long it took for the dust to settle, but it was mid-afternoon before he could finally make out the other walkers of Monkey Force Squadron above the settling cloud. The walkers were scattered amongst the charred and molten ruins of the Chinese city. What little resistance was left inside the metropolis was retreating to the west.

"Alert. Alert. Alert." a voice cut across the squadron channel. A small, blue hologram of an AT-AT commander appeared on the central holoimager. The man appeared to be in the middle of a frantic lightfight with the enemy.

"Monkey 8 this is Monkey 9. Do you require assistance?" Wells asked recognizing the other commander.

"Yes. We've got enemy chopters all around us. We're being swarmed. I believe their intention is to board us." The commander reported.

"Gunner, find Monkey 8." Wells ordered.

"There. sir. Near that draw in the ridge line to the southwest." Malm said.

Dusel was already turning the walker in the indicated direction before Wells ordered him to. "Driver, assault speed. Gunner, tell Rancor 3-3 to stay in place until we return."

"Yes, sir." They both echoed. Dusel pushed his feet pedals to the floor and raised the power settings on the drive engine to full. Within thirty seconds Monkey 9 was charging across the battlefield at her top speed of sixty kilometers per hour. Chinese artillery and anti-landspeeder rounds fell in her wake. The abo slugthrower crews to the east must have been shocked at how much speed she could put out when she needed to.

Ahead of them at the edge of the draw Monkey 8 was spinning in desperate circles, trying to engage the attacking chopters that flitted about her. The endangered walker looked like an akk dog chasing its tail. Blaster fire rose from the ground as Monkey 8's stormtroopers tried to chase the chopters away. Dusel watched as one trooper with a shoulder-mounted, anti-airspeeder launcher fire a Brilliant missile into the crew cabin of one of the attackers. The craft was engulfed in a fireball before its remains smashed to the ground. The loss was not enough to deter the almost suicidal attack.

Dusel was familiar with chopters as a youngling on Chandrilla. They were a common sight on the rural agriworlds of the Home Galaxy where they were primarily utilized as a poor-beings cropduster. They were banned from most of the Core Worlds and especially Coruscant millennia ago due to their slower speeds and the horror of having a vehicle with spinning blades amongst heavy airspeeder traffic. Here on Earth the abos used them as modified gunships and transports in the same way that the Empire utilized LAATs and MAATs.

Several of the gunship chopters were attempting to blast machine slugthrower rounds and anti-armor missiles at Monkey 8's cockpit tunnel. Evidently they had figured that to be the AT-ATs weak point.

"Target front. Chopter." Wells said.

"Identified." Malm primed his heavy cannons.

"Blast."

"On the way." Malm pushed the blasting stubs on his controls. Dusel felt the chin cannons rock in place as two heavy bolts raced across the space of several kilometers to slam into one of the attackers. One bolt neatly sliced through the target chopters tail tearing off the rear of the airspeeder. The other bolt hit the fuselage and forced the stricken craft onto its side before it plunged into the ground.

"Blast at will, Gunner." Wells said. The gunner did just that sending bolt after bolt down range as Dusel closed the gap between them and Monkey 8.

"They're landing on her top." Dusel observed. He watched as one of the bulkier transports hovered over Monkey 8. The abos aboard dropped ropes and half a dozen of them repelled onto their sister's hull before Malm could turn his blasters on the chopter. Malm let loose with two more bolts that caught the chopter in the area Dusel figured to be their pilot's cabin. The craft pitched forward and slammed into the rear of Monkey 8's hull. Within seconds the rear of Monkey 8's hull was a raging conflagration as burning aviation petrol sent oily black plumes into the sky.

"Gunner, engage those enemy troopers on Monkey 8's back." Wells said.

"Sir, I'll hit their walker if I do that." Malm replied.

"Engage with the medium turbolasers. Monkey 8 should be able to withstand any damage we cause with those blasters."

"Yes, sir." Malm responded begrudgingly. Before the Gunner could do so half a dozen chopters recognized Monkey 9 for the threat that she was and broke away from their attack on Monkey 8. With swooping turns they quickly bore down on the approaching walker like a swarm of enraged Toydarians. Contrails streaked across the sky as missiles launched from the primitive airspeeders' weapon pods.

Dusel admired Malm for keeping calm as the projectiles slammed into their walker. The Imperial gunner walked his bolts into one airspeeder after another, swatting them from the air as if they were Sacorrian grain flies.

The Gunner's momentary distraction was all the abos on the hull of Monkey 8 needed. Dusel was the first to see what they were up to as he closed his walker with their endangered sister AT-AT. Through the oily, black smoke rising from the crashed chopter on Monkey 8's rear hull he spotted five of the earthlings sprawled out in the prone position on the top of the crew hull. The last member of their team seemed to be affixing some type of cumbersome package to the neck tunnel of the walker.

"Commander, something is going on up there." Dusel pointed towards Monkey 8 as Malm and Wells continued to engage the last of the enemy airspeeders. Some of which were starting to flee west away from the punishing onslaught that Malm's cannons were delivering.

Wells leaned forward between the two Imperial pilots and peered out the forward viewport. Just as he did so the abo that was astride Monkey 8's neck detonated the device he had strapped to the walker. The entire front of Monkey 8 was momentarily lost in a fiery explosion. Debris rained down across the battlefield, sending the stormtroopers on the ground scurrying in every direction.

As the blast cleared a large hole was to be seen across Monkey 8's neck while her cockpit hung at a distressing angle. The abo that had been on the neck had vanished. Dusel presumed the Chinese abo had been vaporized in his own explosion. The five remaining enemy troopers were up and running towards the new opening. Faster than a spacer could do the Kessel Run the closest one jumped inside the gaping hole in Monkey 8's neck.

"Gunner, target troopers!" Wells screamed.

"Sir? What about Monkey 8. My blasts could damage it." Malm's hesitation gave the second abo enough time to disappear inside the stricken walker in front of them.

"Do it! The earthlings cannot be allowed to capture a walker of the Empire!" Wells leaned across Malm's controls and pushed the blasting stubs himself. The medium repeating blasters on the sides on their cockpit tore loose with their blasts just as the third abo launched himself head first into the hole. The two remaining enemy troopers were violently caught by the incoming blaster bolts. The two abos were torn apart as the heavy plasma blasts impacted them. Both of their bodies were blown like a youngling's rag doll off the opposite side of Monkey 8 by Wells's attack. Smoke rose from several of the blaster impacts that the commander had stitched across Monkey 8's hull in his wild and unaimed fusillade.

The cockpit was filled with their silence as the three of them stared at the boarded walker. Dusel brought their AT-AT to a halt in a position facing the gaping maw in Monkey 8's neck. Behind them Monkey 1, which had the High Colonel aboard, came along side of them.

"Try hailing Monkey 8." Wells told Malm.

"Monkey 8, this is Monkey 9. Do you copy? Monkey 8, this is Monkey 9. . ." Malm repeated himself slowly several times.

Dusel nervously watched the silent walker in front of them. He tried not to picture what was happening to the crew that served her. Some of them were friends who had served with him since their training on Mars.

Wells activated the holoimager and tried to comm the other walker. At first no one was seen standing in the holoimager's pad. Dusel kept darting his eyes between the holoimage and Monkey 8 in front of him. Suddenly a figure rushed across the image and vanished just as fast as he had appeared.

"Who was that?" Wells asked.

"I don't think he was one of ours, sir." Dusel answered. "I'm not sure but it didn't look like he was wearing an Imperial uniform."

"I thought it looked like an abo, too, sir." Malm agreed.

The holoimager flickered with static as it switched comm channels. The image of the Commissar aboard Monkey 1 appeared a second later. "Monkey 9 this is Monkey 1. Prepare to blast upon Monkey 8. That walker cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands."

"Yes, sir." Wells answered. "Gunner, prepare to blast."

"Sir, there could still be Imperial crew alive onboard her." Dusel said aloud before he could stop himself. _We're not really going to blast upon one of our own are we?_

"He's right, sir." Malm concurred. Dusel was thankful Malm agreed.

"We have our orders. Prepare to blast . . ." Wells was saying

"Help! Anybody out there? This is Monkey 8!" a terrified voice came across the squadron's comm channel.

"This is Monkey 1. Who is this?" The High Colonel's voice came across the comm. Dusel was secretly glad it wasn't the Commissar.

"This is Deck Chief Holt." the frightened trooper answered.

The crew of Monkey 9 listened intently to the conversation being broadcasted across their comm channels. Everything in their small area of the battlefield seemed to come to a halt, even incoming Chinese and Imperial artillery seemed to vanish from their vicinity while the drama played out aboard Monkey 8. Onboard Monkey 9 Major Wells hesitated in giving the order to open blast to Malm.

"Holt, this is High Colonel Jade. Where are you at, Son? Is anyone with you?" The Colonel asked, sounding for all the world like a concerned grandfather.

"Deck Chief Dorvald's here with me. We're on the upper troop deck. Dorvald's wounded. He took a slug to the stomach. There's. . . there's a lot of blood." Holt talked as rapidly as a blast from an E-WEB, his voice cracking in fright.

"Where is the rest of your crew, Holt?" The High Colonel asked.

"Dead, sir. There was an explosion in the tunnel. I think everyone inside the cockpit is dead, sir." Holt seemed to be on the edge of losing it.

Dusel took a big swallow to steady his nerves. He tried not to picture how easily it could have been him that had died in that explosion. In the temperature controlled climate of the cockpit Dusel still felt chills running down his back.

"Can you tell me are there any enemy infiltrators aboard your walker, Holt?" Dusel thought it was a good thing that the Colonel was keeping the young trooper talking.

"Yes. I . . . we think there might be three of them. Dorvald winged one of them when he was shot. I couldn't tell, sir. It all happened so fast. I got Dorvald up here to my deck and we dogged shut the mid-deck access hatch." Holt said.

"Do you know what they're up to, Holt?"

"I don't know, sir. They took out the holocams on the lower deck." Holt said. Someone else groaned across the comm. Dusel assumed it was the wounded Dorvald. "Um, we can hear them now. They're messing with the hatch!"

"Can they get in, Holt?" The genuine concern in the Colonel's voice rose.

"I don't know, sir. There are sparks and flames coming from underneath the hinges." Holt sounded panicked. "We've got blaster rifles to try to hold them off with."

"They're cutting their way in." The weakened voice of Dorvald called from somewhere near Holt.

"Do your duty, Son and the Emperor will be proud." The Colonel said.

Dusel thought of one more thing to say, but he whispered it to himself. "May the Force be with you guys." Dusel eyed the still smoking upper section of Monkey 8's hull knowing Holt and Dorvald were trapped on the other side of six decimeters of military-grade durasteel and were about to go toe-to-toe with the enemy. He tried not to imagine the terror the two troopers had to be feeling.

Across the comm came a loud popping sound. Holt must have left the comm keyed while he took up a defensive position, allowing the rest of Monkey Force Squadron to listen to the unfolding struggle. A loud metallic groan followed by a thunderous slamming signaled the opening of the hatch.

"Get ready." Holt whispered to Dorvald. Dusel pictured them both crouched behind the trooper benches near the rear of the hull.

Suddenly there was the sound of metal bouncing off of metal followed by the noise of someone shuffling past the comm. "Thermal detonator!" Holt screamed.

The comm never carried the sound of an explosion but Dusel still knew when the explosive detonated. Monkey 8 seemed to shift slightly in her stance. From the undercarriage between the AT-AT's legs several bright flashes were seen which Dusel assumed signified the destruction of his sister walker's compact fusion drive. Not even the abos on the lower deck could have survived the catastrophe they had initiated aboard Monkey 8.

The stricken walker shifted her weight onto her left legs as Dusel watched the right legs slip their hip joint connections. The left hips snapped violently into multiple pieces as the entire walker slowly tilted to her left. More explosions erupted from her neck as she fell to her side.

Monkey 8 sent up another large cloud of dust as she slammed into the ground. Dusel waited for an explosion that never came. Instead thick clouds of smoke rolled out of every seam and hatch of the destroyed behemoth.

Dusel couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him. This was the second AT-AT he had witnessed the abos destroy. Suddenly the Imperial Army didn't seem like the invincible juggernaut he had always been told it was.

Malm's voice cut across his bucket's comm. Dusel looked and made sure they were on their private channel. "You alright, Dusel?"

"I don't know. You?"

"I don't know either. That could've been us." They couldn't keep their eyes off of the corpse of Monkey 8 in front of them. Already stormtroopers were moving around the downed AT-AT to continue the Imperial advance. The troopers gave the potentially explosive walker a wide berth while they rushed from one crater to the next as they made their way cautiously forward.

For the first time Dusel knew of, troopers of the Empire were truly scared of something; earthlings.

The sun set before they reached their mid-morning objective.


	50. Eritech 4

**Flag Deck, _Imperial II_-SD _Quill_, Geosynchronous Orbit over Imperial Mars.**

Eritech wasn't sure how much longer he could listen to this twit prattle on.

The functionary from the Imperial Bureau of Stellar Charts and Surveys was rambling on and on about newly discovered passages through the Kuiper Belt of asteroids that encircled the local system. Eritech couldn't think of a duller being to address the group gathered for Emperer Yos' monthly briefing.

Only a few naval and army officers as well as several civilian ministers were huddled around a large circular imagecaster that projected holoimages of the Sol System from the inner system rimward toward its Oort cloud. Eritech studied the beings in the room and sighed when he realized that the civilians vastly outnumbered the military representatives present. He sighed, he had hoped for more officers from the Subterrel Squadron at least.

Besides Gunnery Commander Eiryn from his own vessel and Admiral Neptu from the Ploo Squadron the only other officers present were the captains of the _Kuat Dragon_, the _Flood_, and the _Charger,_ as well as Captain Nake commander of the _Quill_. As far as Eritech was aware none of them were trusted by Moff Seco, his secret co-conspirator.

The false Emperor himself stood on the other side of the device, intently staring at the new information as it was being presented, occasionally stopping the presenter and asking some sort of inane question to further slow the proceedings. Eritech had been called here to give a situation report on the war on Earth, or more specifically the simultaneous breakthrough campaigns that had been launched out of the two Target cities.

The moment had come. The undercover ISB agent would finally have his revenge on the usurper in the name of the true Emperor, Palpatine.

As soon as the false Emperor Yos called them forward Eritech would activate the proton bomb he had hidden in his valise. Their report would be as brief as possible. The Army had broken out of the Target cities. Imperial forces were going forward. All was well. At the conclusion the three conspirators would exit with the plausible excuse that their warships were in need of them. Eritech would purposely leave his briefcase underneath the holoprojector where it would detonate twenty minutes after activation.

The confines of the flag bridge left little to Eritech's imagination as to what would happen next. The bomb wasn't large enough to destroy the _Quill_ or even cripple her for very long. Instead, the durasteel bulkheads of the suite would hold, allowing the rapid, instantaneous rise in air pressure to crush and kill every being in the room. Those who miraculously survived the blast would be defenestrated into the void when the great transpiristeel viewports of the chamber shattered. No one could survive long enough for the blast shutters to activate and reseal the room.

Eritech tried hard to keep a predatory grin from spreading across his face.

The speaker finally finished. Eritech figured it was their turn and his hand slowly moved towards the hidden activation switch on his valise. Then he stopped.

Emperor Yos was asking instead for a briefing from the representative from the KDY dockyards. Eritech recognized the next bureaucrat as one of Moff Kuat's corporate aides. The man launched into an update on the progress of the massive Super Star Destroyer that filled up most of the space in the dockyards these days. By the Kuati's report it didn't seem as if she would be setting sail for another two years standard. Eritech breathed a sigh of relief. When the _Ares_ was complete she would be able to take on the whole of _Tarkin's Fist_ by herself. If those still loyal to Yos after today had control of her at full readiness status Moff Seco's plan would have been crushed in its infancy.

The representative went on to report that the next colonization vessel was nearing completion. The _Tchun-Tchin_ would be the first starship to receive a full complement of hypermatter. It would then follow a series of hyperspace beacons to rendezvous with the _StarGate_ exploratory vessel somewhere near Epsilon Eridani sometime later this year. It would be carrying a full load of two thousand cloned Twileks. Eritech sneered at the idea of aliens spreading their impure filth across a new galaxy.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Commander Eiryn move her hand to her ear. He knew she had a tiny aural amplifier implanted in her ear canal, a device common amongst gunners who spent their lives next to loud, heavy blasters. Eiryn's cybernetic had been modified to include a tiny comm device.

She leaned towards him, her whisper a sensual purr in his ear. "Confirmation that both the Home Legion and the Culter City Guard have mustered for Operation _Diathim._"

"Are they still under the assumption that it is a drill?" Eritech whispered back.

"So far. The arrest orders can be delivered to those troopers as soon as we have completed our mission." She answered.

It didn't take much for Eritech to imagine the hundreds of red-armored Culter City Guard and the brigades of stormtroopers left on Mars in the Home Legion falling into formation in front of their barracks. Their commanders were no doubt wondering what the Alert Order they had received was all about. He wondered how long they could maintain the illusion of a drill.

"Did you hear that, sir?" Eritech leaned closely to the nearby Admiral Neptu. Neptu seemed to be in the midst of deep contemplation. Eritech wondered why. Duty to Palpatine should come naturally to any true citizen of the Empire. Almost imperceptibly the flag officer gave a slight nod of confirmation.

Eritech felt almost serene. He had anticipated high anxiety at this moment but now as the time drew near he felt nothing but joyful acceptance.

Neptu leaned towards him. "Who's not here, Captain?"

Eritech glanced back at the Ploo Admiral. What did he mean, '_Who's not here_?' The usurper was standing four meters away and Eritech had a proton bomb in his valise. Surely that was all that was required to be present.

"Where are Admirals Bacara or Hadrian? Where are Moffs Culter and Kuat? Where is the Princess? Moff Seco was adamant she be present after his run in with her last week." Neptu said quietly underneath the volume of the briefing.

"He's right. Captains Yutu and Dual are absent as well, sirs. I understand Moff Seco warned Captain Charge to stay away from this briefing." Eiryn added softly. Eritech felt that she was betraying him.

The only one that mattered was Yos. The others could be swept up in _Diathim's_ round ups. He had his orders and any dereliction of duty or wavering in the face of the enemy was treason in his eyes. The corpulent Admiral had the choice of stepping up or stepping aside.

A Sernpidalian minister from the Imperial Bureau of Resource Research cleared his throat loudly in their direction, trying to indicate that they were disturbing his enjoyment of the incredibly dull meeting. Eritech locked eyes with the official and stared him down. The man turned away under the ISB agent's iron glare.

"Yos is here. That is enough to proceed, Admiral." Eritech whispered to Neptu. He wasn't going to let the fat naval officer's cold feet ruin his chance to extract his vengeance.

"There could be enough of the Emperor's faction left to oppose us. I say we wait." Neptu answered.

"I say we go." Eritech practically wanted to scream. As it was, several heads turned in their direction. Neptu turned his as well, unaccustomed to being challenged by someone he thought of as his subordinate. Eritech had been trained that the Imperial Security Bureau was subordinate to no one besides the true Emperor.

"Is there something you would like to add, Admiral Neptu?" The usurper asked from across the holoimager. All eyes were suddenly on them.

"No, your Majesty. Captain Volt was just asking me of the possibility of including a Star Destroyer within the exploratory mission." Neptu lied.

"A Star Destroyer has a much higher hypermatter requirement than the colony vessel. I think Star Destroyers would be better served finishing the war with the Earth before we send them elsewhere. Though I'm sure over the next few years we will be encountering new species for conquest in this galaxy. The earthlings can't have been the only life in the Milky Way." Yos explained. Eritech was thankful the fool bought Neptu's excuse.

"You may continue, Gage." Yos said to the representative from KDY.

"My Liege, that is all I have to report." The Kuati bowed at the waist to his regent.

"Very well. Who shall be next?" Yos asked. Once again Eritech's hand went towards the activation switch.

Neptu firmly grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Not yet." the Admiral softly warned.

The false Emperor called forward a Cathar from the Imperial Department for Epidemic Prevention. Eritech wanted to growl out of frustration for being skipped once more.

The feline Cathar started into a report on the continuing spread of the Earth-based Ebola disease that was making its way through Culter City. Apparently a hundred cases had been confirmed and quarantined, with over a dozen fatalities. Shipments of new slaves from Earth and Operation _Piper_ were still being suspended until the epidemic was over, which according to the Cathar, could be weeks from now. Eritech wondered if that would affect their plans by any means.

Eritech studied his enemy through the holoimage of the fatal Earth virus as it slowly rotated in the center of the circle. Yos asked several questions about its possible spread amongst the population here on Mars and the theoretic spread of Earth diseases to the new colonies. Never once did Yos seem concerned about the spread throughout the Fleet or the troopers fighting on Earth. That didn't bother Eritech too much as it was of little concern to him, as well. The only thing that mattered was service to Palpatine.

Finally the Cathar concluded his report. "Admiral Neptu, you may go next." Yos said.

Eritech breathed a sigh of relief. Despite Neptu's hesitation he was going to go forward with the plan. He looked to Eiryn for support. His lover smiled and gave a slight nod of encouragement. The moment was here. He activated the timer on the bomb with a slight movement of his fingertips. As Neptu moved forward he bent down and placed his valise on the deck under one of the support legs of the holoimager.

Time was running out. The countdown had begun.

"What is the status on the pursuit of the Elimination Targets?" Yos asked.

Eritech was taken aback that the trumped up sovereign didn't ask about the progress of the new 'Surge' campaign that had been recently launched dirtside.

"The North American President remains at large. The Martian Bounty Hunter's Guild is positive that they will have him soon. As you well know, your Majesty, the President's wife and younglings are being held hostage at your palace." Neptu said.

"The bounty hunters are scum, but they're our scum. Wave enough credits in front of them and they'll get any job done. Once President Harris is eliminated the North American Union will surrender, just as the Separatists gave up after the deaths of General Grievous and the Separatist Council on Mustafar to conclude the Clone War." Yos stated assuredly.

"Of course. I can think of no other outcome, sir." Neptu replied. Eritech fought not to roll his eyes in disgust. He could think of hundreds of ways the elimination of the President could affect the Martian Empire. The most unfortunate would be the prolonging of the unnecessary war while the real enemies of the true Empire continued their treasonous ways on Mars.

"As for other targets, "Neptu continued, "We were successful in bombing the Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Deutschland's wheeled hovertrain last night. This Deutschland was one of the client states of the European Union and was suspected of being in the process of sending troopers to aid the Chinese on the other side of their greater continental mass. Perhaps this loss as well as the class warfare in the France region and the escalation of orbital bombardment against the United Kingdom will drive the Europeans to the surrender table?" Neptu shrugged. Eritech didn't fault him. He, too, didn't believe the loss of a minor dignitary would end the war.

"Your Majesty, these are the latest eliminations as confirmed by CommScan." Eiryn added. She had a way of holding the attention of the males in the room, even Neptu's, whom she was assisting. She activated the holoimager that showed an aurabesh listing of several dozen Earthlings. "As you can see the Russian Federation has lost their eighteenth president since the Empire-Earth War began three months ago." There were several chuckles around the room. There wasn't a briefing that went by without the report of another of these Russian Presidents or Premiers being eliminated. Eritech wondered why Yos didn't expect the Russians to capitulate after the losses of so many heads of state. Why did he expect the NAU to surrender after the loss of their leader when all evidence pointed to the contrary?

"This needs to be expedited as quickly as possible, Gentlebeings. Though the need for new slaves to fuel our economic needs continues, this war is drawing away resources and materials that would better serve the spread of our Empire into the Milky Way." Yos said. "I have perused the daily reports distributed by Theater Commander Seco and have studied the reports from Captain Yutu, noting that he still hasn't detected any outer-system threats for the Fleet to be concerned with. Is there anything else the military would like to report before we adjourn for the day?"

Eritech nervously glanced at his chromo. Seventeen minutes until the bomb detonated. Plenty of time to excuse themselves and get clear in time as the meeting continued without them. But Yos was acting like he wanted to wrap up the briefing.

He touched Neptu's arm. "We must extend this meeting. If we are to be the last presenters then we should stay with the bomb up to detonation. Give him a briefing on the breakthroughs at Changzhou and Palm Springs or something else that will stall for time." Eritech whispered urgently. He would gladly give his life to seek vengeance on Palpatine's enemies.

"No, there is not enough of his upper echelon present. With our loss Moff Seco would be hard-pressed to contain the enemies he hasn't bought with the stolen aurodium. Also the Commissars are not yet fully in control of the Army." Neptu argued.

Eritech caught Eiryn's eyes. She looked nervous that they were taking too long. The usurper Yos cleared his throat loudly at them. Several beings around the holoimager started whispering to each other.

"This is our best chance. He's within our grasp. We have a clear duty to Palpatine." Eritech pleaded.

"I disagree. We will have another shot at this." Neptu argued, his voice almost discernible to the rest of the room.

"Is there anything else to report, officers?" Yos asked sternly.

"No, sir. Operation _Piper_ is still on standby in that New Zealand place until the Ebola outbreak is contained. Other than that the new offensives are advancing." Neptu said. His tone was firm as he glared at Eritech, silently commanding him not to say another word. Several seconds of silence passed between them.

"Very well, then. I consider this meeting adjourned and all of you have my leave to return to the capital. We shall reconvene for another briefing sometime next month." Yos said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have business in Culter City."

Yos swept from the room. The civilians in the room bowed low at the waist at their sovereign's passing. The military officers snapped to attention, Eritech amongst them, and gave their best salute. "Hail the Emperor!" They all called out. At least in his mind Eritech was referring to Palpatine.

"Hail." Yos returned the salute as he left the Admiral's flag deck.

As soon as the false Emperor was gone. Eritech bent down and picked up his valise. He quickly deactivated the bomb while Eiryn retrieved the datachip containing the report they had just presented from the holoimager.

The meeting broke up. Most of the civilians gathered together and headed towards the flight decks to catch their shuttles back to the surface of Mars. Neptu, Eritech, and Eiryn followed them at a distance so as not to be overheard.

"Contact Moff Seco." Neptu ordered when he was assured they were out of earshot of other beings.

Eiryn pulled a Brosso Mark II holoprojector out of her own valise and held it in the palm of her hand. A few seconds later the holoimage of Moff Seco appeared. The Ploo governor was aboard his Star Destroyer flagship, the _Wilderness,_ somewhere in orbit around Earth.

"Tell me the deed is done, officers." Moff Seco said as soon as he appeared. Eritech wondered how anxiously the Theater Commander had been waiting on their comm.

"Negative, sir. The Emperor ended the meeting early. Also, there were only some minor Captains present besides ourselves. The meeting seemed to be more geared for a civilian briefing." Neptu answered. Eritech felt that the Admiral was covering up his hesitation and he sneered in disgust.

"What really happened? I want the truth." Seco said.

Eritech's frustrations and anger at being stuck in a false Empire for over two years rose to the surface in a tidal wave of fury. It took all of his training as an undercover agent to hide the feelings of betrayal he had with the Admiral. "The operation was a political move in the hands of the military. Admiral Neptu's indecisiveness may have robbed us of our best opportunity to bring _Diathim_ to a successful conclusion." Eritech's anger made his voice come out as a growl. If the ISB had been in charge the operation would have been a success. Eritech was sure of that.

"You are out of order, Captain. My Lord, I must insist that Captain Volt be relieved of his duties immediately." Neptu's voice sounded like a youngling's whine.

"You are a woman, Neptu, and a fat one at that. I would have you sent dirtside if I didn't think you'd surrender just to be President's Harris's pleasure slave." Seco berated the senior officer. Eiryn tried to hide a smile. Eritech puffed out his chest. "No more indecision. From now on Volt has discretion."

"Yes, sir." Neptu answered. His face a mask of subdued anger.

"Volt, I will send the orders for the troopers on Mars to stand down. Today's mobilization under _Diathim_ will be classified as a drill. It will have raised some suspicion. I cannot issue _Diathim_ again unless we follow through. If you fail to . . ."

"I will do my duty. You just make sure you take Culter City." Eritech confidently stated.

"As for the rest of the Emperor's upper echelon. The arrest warrants that will be issued will sweep them up. Especially the Bureau of Operation's Directors and the other Moffs. I take it the _heir presumptive_ wasn't present?" Seco asked.

Eiryn answered for them. "No, my Lord. Princess Phasma was spotted by our spies at the Imperial Martian Academy this morning. We were under the impression that she was to be arrested in the same manner as the rest of the Emperor's court."

"That has changed. I fear the Princess could possibly become a rallying point for our enemies. I have made contact with the handlers of a clan of Loag assassins to deal with her. Volt, I will need to know the precise timing of your strike to coordinate the movements of the Loag and the troopers conducting _Diathim._" Seco said.

"You will have it, my Lord. I will wait no longer than the next Emperor's briefing sometime next month. This time there will be no hesitation." Eritech glared at Neptu who hung his head low in response. The man was weak and someday Moff Seco would need someone who was strong at his side.

"Good, very good. Return to your ships. Soon we will return to the true Empire." Seco ordered.

"Hail the Empire." The three officers said just as the holoimage disappeared.

Admiral Neptu didn't utter another word. Instead the senior officer stormed ahead of Eritech and Eiryn without so much as a single rearward glance. Eritech looked at the beautiful gunnery officer and motioned for her to walk with him. Eiryn gave him a heart-stopping, cutthroat smile and followed along in silence.

Neptu easily beat them to the _Quill's_ hanger bay. The large Alpha hanger was already being emptied of several shuttles in the process of returning to Mars. Their civilian occupants still held little interest for the undercover ISB agent.

The two officers boarded the _Insertion's_ only TIE/sh shuttle just as the Admiral's _Lambda_ shuttle cleared the _Quill's_ hanger bay energy shield.

"We'll have to watch out for him from now on." Eiryn said. She moved behind Eritech's chair just as he was taking a seat. Their pilot was already running through the take-off procedure. Eiryn started rubbing Eritech's neck, perhaps sensing how upset he was on the botched assassination attempt. But even though he wanted it to relax him, he couldn't let it because he was still fuming over the failure of their mission.

"The fool cost us too much. We could already be well on our way to returning to the true Empire if it wasn't for him." Eritech said.

"We have clearance from _Quill_ FlightOps to depart, sir. We should be back aboard the _Insertion_ in Earth orbit in just over two hours." The pilot informed them. After getting no response from Eritech the pilot went back to focusing on his controls and didn't say another word for the remainder of the trip.

Eritech looked at his valise with its deadly consignment. "We should have made our move."

"Perhaps the Admiral was right. Maybe it's not enough to kill Yos. We need to isolate his chain of command. The slightest confusion, like Neptu's ineptitude today, could crush us." Eiryn offered. "Maybe it's better that Moff Seco uses the extra time so he can get more of his holomonsters on the Dejarik table, as it were."

"We need to be certain no conflicting orders get out after _Diathim_ is issued." Eritech started to rub his throbbing temples. Neptu's cowardice had given him a migraine. Eiryn rubbed his shoulders in an effort to help him with his sudden pain. The rest of the flight passed with a simmering rise in Eritech's irritation.

Soon Eritech was striding onto the bridge of his Star Destroyer, the _Imperial_ _I_-class _Insertion._ The bridge crew snapped to attention in the crew pit at his arrival. He ignored them as he walked to the forward viewport and glared at the blue and green world in front of him. He folded his arms behind his back and thought of the revenge that had slipped from his grasp due to the incompetence of Admiral Neptu. He was willing to risk his life, so why wasn't Neptu.

Eiryn, in her role as the vessel's Gunnery Commander, conversed with the Bridge Commander who had been left in charge during their absence above Mars. She gave Eritech all the space he needed to deal with his silent rage. The Bridge Commander signaled for the sailors to return to their duties after a few minutes of standing at attention. They did so as quietly as possible to not draw the attention of their obviously irked Captain.

"Sitrep, Commander. What has my ship been up to since Commander Eiryn and myself left to meet with the Emperor?" Eritech asked after several long minutes of silence.

"Sir, we've engaged multiple targets of opportunity moving across the lesser continental mass. Most of them consisted of those wheeled hovertrains and a few heavy landspeeder transports. The earthlings seem to be getting better at keeping hidden whenever one of us is overhead."

"Yes, Fleet Intelligence suspects they are keeping tabs on our movements quite intensely. They only dart forward again when the skies are clear like cowardly womp rats scurrying about." Eritech stated flatly, never taking his eyes off the planet below.

"We also bombarded several durasteel refineries around the NAU city of Pittsburgh. These were suspected of producing the poor form of durasteel the earthlings commonly use."

"I thought those factories had been destroyed during the initial bombardment of their world?"

"They had, sir. And we're confident that we further damaged them with our strikes today. CommScan and SigInt both believe the earthlings are constructing underground or heavily camouflaged facilities in the area. Intelligence has reported that they suspect the earthlings may be constructing hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these manufacturing centers around their world. They simply don't realize they're beaten." The Bridge Commander said.

"But the nearby city was destroyed, was it not?"

"Yes, sir. By the _Babel_ on the second day of the war. If I had to guess, sir, I'd say most of the population scattered before the bombardment. Whoever the earthling leadership isn't conscripting into their armies is presumably being forced to work in these hidden factories." Eiryn said. She had been listening to the exchange a couple of meters away.

"Then it is logical that we best serve the Empire by denying the enemy a viable workforce." Eritech realized aloud. If he couldn't strike at the enemy on Mars he would find a way to rip the heart out the enemy below. "Where is that target we noticed last week? I believe it was somewhere nearby on the lesser continental mass?"

"What target would that be, Captain?" The Bridge Commander asked.

"Captain Volt is referring to the large refugee camp that is located in the central part of the North American Union. I believe the site was called Camp Chicago after the nearby city of the same name that was eradicated during the Fleet's opening bombardment." Eiryn said.

"That is correct, Commander. Prepare your gunners for a limited Base Delta Zero engagement." Eritech told Eiryn. He had an enemy he could strike at and he wasn't about to let another target slip away. He turned to the Bridge Commander. "Commander, bring the _Insertion_ to an optimal blasting position over this Camp Chicago."

"Sir, that target hasn't been authorized for engagement by the Theater Commander or the Emperor. FleetOps has deemed these large refugee centers as a non-threat to _Tarkin's Fist_." The Bridge Commander stammered. Unfortunately for him Eritech was done hearing excuses for delay.

"Commander, you are relieved of your duties. Commander Eiryn, you are promoted to Bridge Commander and are hereby ordered to execute your duty as my second-in-command." Eritech growled.

"Yes, sir." Eiryn flashed him a hungry smile. If he wasn't on the verge of battle his libido might have taken more advantage of what Eiryn could offer.

Eritech signaled two naval troopers from the rear of the bridge. The two troopers advanced on the command group. "Take this officer to his quarters. He is to be confined there until he can be transferred back to FleetOps Headquarters at Tarkin's Tower."

"But, sir . . ." The dumbfounded officer protested. The two troopers grabbed hold of the man's arms and escorted him from the bridge. The rest of the crew watched the events unfold in silence.

"Bring us over the target." Eritech ordered. Eiryn echoed his orders to the crew pits. The _Insertion_ was underway at once, heading to the west at low sublight speeds. A few minutes later Eiryn called out for the engines to reverse thrust as the massive Star Destroyer came to anchor high in orbit above its intended target.

Below them, in what Navigation was identifying as the state of Illinois, lay a massive war refugee camp filled to the bursting point with near-human earthlings. Gunnery holoprojectors showed food and water distribution centers along with several make-shift medical facilities strung out amongst the endless throngs. Eritech could see the moment the beings on the ground looked up and spotted the _Insertion_ as it settled over their heads. Some beings on the periphery of the camp sensed the coming danger and scattered into the surrounding woods and farm fields.

"What are the population estimates of this camp?" Eritech asked.

A SigInt crewman in the pit answered. "Sir, five to six million. Many of them are believed to be survivors of Target Chicago. But best estimates are they are also made up of refugees from the destroyed metropolises of Kansas City, Saint Louis, Minneapolis, Des Moines, Nashville. . ." the crewman rattled off another dozen names that meant nothing to Eritech.

"Sir, the crew may wonder why we are engaging a civilian target?" Eiryn whispered.

"Will they? What about their duty?" Eritech was taken aback. Eiryn gave him an inquisitive look. "Oh, very well. I'll address them."

"Men and women of the _Insertion,_ we are preparing to blast upon yet another target that houses the enemy of our Empire." The crew in the pits below stopped what they were doing and gave him their undivided attention. Eritech would have noted if anyone was making the mistake of ignoring him. He felt the fervor of serving the true Empire start to rise within him and let it inspire his words. "The target area below does not house military forces other than a few small militia units that are there to insure order among their populace. Nor does the target boast any great manufacturing center for the making of arms to be used against our brave troopers dirtside. Even though this particular quarry does not contain any of these things that may be obvious to hindering our own war effort it does hold something else. It holds the hopes and dreams of the enemy. It is their heart. As such those refugees will assuredly be turned into factory workers or farmhands to supply goods and weapons to our enemy. Make no mistake those civilian refugees dirtside are our enemy and if given the slightest of chances they would certainly slit all of our throats with the simplest of vibroblades. If they are the heart of the earthlings then I say it is time to tear that heart from their chest. Are you with me?"

"Aye, aye, sir!" The sailors in the pits yelled. A few of them clapped.

"Serve your Empire." Eritech said, before turning back to Eiryn. "They will do their duty." Eritech had no doubts about that. The real traitors to the Empire resided on Mars, not some lowly crewman aboard a Star Destroyer.

"All five of the heavy batteries are reporting status blue, and are standing by." Eiryn reported. The bow of the Star Destroyer dipped so that all of the heavy batteries could be brought to bear on their target.

Eritech wished he could bring more turbolasers to bear but he was still one gun battery short ever since he lost Turret 4 to an accident during the opening bombardment. Five batteries would still be enough, he thought. "Set power levels to surface penetration levels. Blast on my mark."

"Aye, aye, Captain. All batteries are primed."

"Blast away." Eritech ordered.

"Blast!" Eiryn yelled to the gunnery crewmen in the pit.

Ahead of the vessel ten ship-long heavy turbolaser blasts flashed away from the ship burning through the atmosphere of the world ahead of them in a millionth of a second. Unlike what would be commonly found on worlds of the Home Galaxy no planetary shield protected the helpless on the ground below. Green laser bolts with yields in the giggatonne range slammed into the Earth, penetrating thousands of meters below the surface. Their resulting explosive damage threw large chunks of molten soil back into the atmosphere. The debris that rained down over several hundred kilometers was filled with mud and dirt, tents and vehicles, men and women.

The holoprojectors on the bridge went blank as their feeds were lost due to the cataclysm Eritech had unleashed dirtside. Not that it mattered anymore. From high in orbit the false-captain watched as a large red scar emerged along the face of the Earth. A thick, black smoke column rose towards them before the prevailing winds of the primitive world carried it eastward.

Again and again the batteries blasted. Their bolts racing away from the heavy turbolasers twice every minute. Eritech pictured the gun crews exerting themselves below deck to maintain the flow of tibanna and power to the heavy blasters.

If only the usurper could feel the power he was capable of wielding at this moment. His missed opportunity with Yos was the only thing that prevented him from fully enjoying the justice he was doling out to the Empire's enemies below.

"Captain, lifeform scanners are only picking up signals that are zero point five zero to one point zero percent of pre-bombardment readings from the target zone and still declining." Eiryn reported.

"Cease blasting." He ordered. The turbolaser batteries became silent a few seconds later. Their superheated rifles quickly cooled in the vacuum of the void as they remained aimed at their former target. The bombardment had lasted only four minutes.

He stared for a long time at the distant massacre he had inflicted upon the enemy of the 1st Martian Empire. An Empire that he would never belong to. An Empire he would much rather turn his heavy turboblasters upon and let loose. In the end he felt little joy in dispersing justice on the Earth. It wasn't their fault they weren't a part of the 1st Galactic Empire. Perhaps Palpatine in his wisdom would have used them as allies of the true Empire against the real enemy on Mars.

Perhaps the enemy of my enemy is my friend, he thought watching the growing blackened cloud drift eastwards away from the butchery dirtside. A momentary pang of mercy and doubt cursed through him.

_No!_ An enemy is an enemy is an enemy. That lesson had been drilled into him since his training under the ISB's best spymasters. Even a friend is a tool to use against an enemy or else it is a weakness that will be used against you someday.

He glanced at Eiryn, knowing full well she could be used against him by the proper foe. What a fearsome enemy she would make. She hadn't shown a hint of mercy when he had ordered her gunners to blast upon the Earth. He intended to keep her very close to prevent her from ever turning against him.

"Commander, commend your gunners on a job well done." He said, looking back out the viewport again. His anger at Yos was momentarily sated by the execution of six million beings, murdered simply for existing. Yet he knew his thirst for vengeance wouldn't be pushed aside for very long.

"Bring the ship back to its normal patrol sector and continue to scan for targets of opportunity." he said.

"Aye, aye, my Captain." Eiryn replied.

Eritech continued his vigilant watch of the red scar on Earth's surface. It continued to burn bright even as the planet below rotated into night.

For now he would continue to hunt for smaller targets that would continue to aid the war effort. But in his heart he knew the only target that mattered was the one he was going to kill at the next briefing.


	51. Ashla 4

**Phasma Asteroid Belt, 1,345,000 kilometers trailing 10 Hygiea, Sol System**

Ashla knew patience.

She wondered if the rest of the pirates aboard the _Agen's Light_ had ever heard of the concept. She sat in the middle of the YT-2000's main hold in a soothing meditative trance as she focused on the Universal Force around her. The other crew gave her space while they found other ways to combat their own anxiety about their first pirating venture.

The Jedi Knight could feel the rest of her pack throughout the ship. She knew where each one was and how they were feeling in the Force, because each pirate had a unique feel to him or her.

Brakatak and Frip were playing a game of Dejarik in the next hold, smashing their holomonsters into each other to pass the time.

Everyone had been so happy to see the unofficial leader of their small band back from that horrible concentration camp. Brakatak had such an infectious, peppy personality that it was nearly impossible to be depressed around the big Gran. The little Ishi Tib, Frip, was never very far away from his friend. He always made sure that every being in the pack was well taken care of. Ashla didn't think the little green guy had a dishonest bone in his fishy body.

She felt the Duro pilot, Rana, sitting alone in the cockpit and watching the space around the small asteroid on which she had landed them. The rock was barely bigger than their spacecraft. Rana had powered down all of the ship's systems save for a minimum level of life support in an effort to keep the _Agen's Light_ camouflaged from their prey. The hope was that the powered-down Corellian freighter would look like nothing more than a harmless piece of space rock to any passing traffic. Ashla could feel Rana thinking about her, doubting her abilities to use the Force to complete her part of their job. With subspace radar powered down they only had Ashla's Force abilities to detect the approach of any other craft in their area and Rana had yet to be sold on the idea but was giving Ashla the benefit of the doubt for now.

Erw and Raf were both crawling through the bowels of the ship somewhere beneath her in the maintenance bay. Better than any astromech droid, the pair of Utais had already made dozens of legal and highly illegal modifications to the _Agen's Light,_ including making her one of the fastest craft that ever flew off the face of Mars. On Brakatak's orders they were currently changing out the starship's identiplate with a false one that had been forged by their crew's best slicer, Keatly.

Her focus shifted to the slicer and found both Keatly and Ashlei were sprawled out in their make-shift quarters in the Number Two Hold around the corner. Ashla sensed the anxiety flowing off Ashlei in waves. The Firrerreo was in the middle of her thirtieth set of sit-ups in the past hour in an effort to burn off some of her nervous energy.

Keatly's energy was a bit more focused. She sat on top of the ship's Correlstand C-8 life-support, working on her datapad. Within the local system she could easily access the powerful HoloNet signals emanating from Imperial Mars. Over the past weeks Keatly had been able to eradicate any hint of a criminal record for Frip, Brakatak, and Ashla that covered their escape from the vile Concentration Camp. The Firrerreon slicer was having a bit more trouble creating an identity and electronic history for the last member of their crew.

That crewman was by far the easiest to locate aboard the vessel. His slippery aura in The Force pulsed with curiosity and anxiety. Jason Bogan had been dragged along when the trio had escaped all those weeks ago. Ashla had made his escape possible by cutting out the explosive device that would have otherwise prevented his escape with only her fangs and the guidance of the Light Side.

Whenever Ashla thought about Jason she felt guilty that she couldn't do more to help his beings in the camp. As it was she had sent thousands back from throwing themselves suicidally at the camp's perimeter during their escape. But something deep down had made her want to avoid returning to that Dark Side cursed hell. Ashla had been a slave for five years after her capture on Muunilinst while on the run from the Old Empire's Jedi hunters. She had seen firsthand the evil that the Empire wrought upon its slaves in the name of the greater good. She wondered what her master, Agen Kolar, would have thought as she had fled across the red Martian plains away from the slaughter of so many helpless near-human earthlings.

In a small way helping Jason Bogan helped to ease her conscience. She wished she could be more overt and help the slaves in the camps but after Order 66 she knew her life would be measured in seconds if the Empire ever found out they had a Jedi in the Sol System.

If only the Force would guide her. Her meditation always seemed blurred when it came to the local system's only know sentient species. They seemed at odds with the Force itself, both the Light Side and Dark Side. All forms of the Force seemed to be choked or throttled when it flowed through one of the beings of the planet Earth. She wondered whether the Sith or the benevolent Jedi Order would have even allowed such a strange world to exist back in the Home Galaxy.

Jason Bogan sat above her in the top-side gunner's chair and seemed to be loving his first time in what he called 'Outer Space'. She sensed that he was pointing the inactive AG-3G Tri Laser Cannon in the top turret at small, passing asteroids. Through her meditations she could also sense him making odd noises, as if simulating the blasting of the vessel's weapons. She was surprised to find herself smiling at the thought of the full-grown male around her age acting like a youngling on the deck above her.

Once they had been reunited with their friends, Brakatak had offered to try to get the earthling back to his home world. But with the bulk of _Tarkin's__Fist_ maintaining a massive blockade of Star Destroyers around the embattled planet every being in the entire crew of the _Agen's Light_ had doubts they could have pulled it off. Jason had been surprisingly gracious about it, saying that it wasn't a big deal and that he was excited to be part of their crew and looking forward to being a pirate. For all his bravado Ashla sometimes sensed that the male was worried about his family, which he hadn't heard from since the Empire-Earth war began months ago.

Jason was quick to hide any disappointment he may have been feeling in not being able to return to his home world. He threw himself wholeheartedly into becoming a proper pirate, though where he got his ideas of what a proper pirate was, was beyond Ashla's imagination. The earthling had fashioned himself an unnecessary eye patch that he randomly switched between his eyes throughout the day. He would walk around the starship as if he had a cybernetic leg and spout nonsensical phrases like "Ahoy!", "Avast ye, Mateys", and what seemed to be his favorite, "Arrrrrggghhh." Every time he uttered it everyone thought the poor boy had injured himself.

Ashla found herself constantly baffled by the enigma of the near-humans on Earth. They still felt slippery, as if The Force was literally being squeezed out of them, which didn't make any sense to Ashla as she had been taught that The Force was an energy field created by all living things. It was a lesson she had memorized from her days as a youngling in the Jedi Temple. Master Yoda had taught her that The Force surrounds all living things, penetrates them and binds the galaxy together. So what was wrong with the beings of Earth that The Force rejected them in such a manner? They were living beings, weren't they?

Ashla pulled her focus from the contemplation of the beings of Earth and back to the task at hand. Through her meditation she tried to feel for other beings moving about the asteroid belt that coursed through the middle of the local system. Named after the heir to the Empire, the Phasma Belt was a bustling area of the New Empire. Over fifty new mining companies plied the area in search of heavy ore asteroids for the foundries on Mars. Steadfastly resisting the Mining Guild's efforts to unionize, the prospectors were spread near and far across the asteroid belt. Their efforts carved dozens of new exits from the inner system every month as they towed their heavy ore back to Mars where it was refined into durasteel plates for the Imperial military.

Ashla remembered the awe-inspiring size of the giant Star Dreadnaught that was under construction in the dockyards over Culter City when they had left Mars, evidence of the diligence and determination of the miners in the Phasma Belt. Unfortunately miners made poor targets for pirates. With only ore in their holds and trapped in their tow tractor beams there wasn't a lot to steal in the Phasma Belt. And even though ore was going at a premium on the Imperial Mercantile Exchange there was still only two buyers: the Imperial Navy and Army and they didn't take kindly to beings pilfering their durasteel source.

Ashla hoped that she could do what her friends thought she could and that she wasn't leading them on a wild Mynock chase out here in the void.

On their walk back to Culter City from Camp 1138 she had explained some of her less-known force abilities to her friends at Jason's insistence. Jason was dumb-as-a-dinko when it came to fundamental knowledge of the all-encompassing energy field that held the universe together and stared at her as if she were few cruisers short of a starfleet whenever she spoke of it. The others knew more about The Force, having grown up hearing tales of Jedi Knights, and when she got to the part about Force Sight. Brakatak had gotten it into his head that she could use The Light Side as some sort of subspace radar detector. Once they were back on the _Agen's Light _he had revealed his laser-brained theory that if she focused herself enough she'd be able to detect passing freighters as they traversed the asteroid belt without giving themselves away by powering up the _Agen's Light's_ sensor systems.

Ashla had tried to argue that she had never detected another being with Force Sight from more than a few rooms away, yet alone at a distance of hundreds of kilometers. She knew Jedi could feel disturbances in The Force at great distances, even whole sectors away, but starship crews wouldn't be disturbed or anxious as they moved about the Sol System. Even though there had been some doubts, Brakatak and the rest of the herd had convinced her to give it her best bolt anyways.

She focused on the area around the _Agen's Light_ and then expanded her focus to the asteroid upon which they were precariously perched. After pausing a moment to steady her breathing and pulse, she expanded her focus to a few hundred asteroids in their general vicinity. Sweat started to bead up on her crimson skin despite the climate controlled air inside the Corellian frieghter.

Doubt started to rise. What if she wasn't able to do what Brakatak had asked of her? She fought to maintain her concentration but was losing ground to uncertainty in her own abilities. Her sphere of influence started shrinking as her concentration was thrown off by self-doubt.

Not for the first time she wished she had had more time with her Jedi Master, Agen Kolar, before that vile Sith Lord Palpatine had taken him away from her. Frustrated, she opened her eyes to see the Zabrak Jedi Master was standing before her. He appeared as a shimmering, blue, ghost-like figure, radiating the Light Side of The Force.

She knew at once from the feel of his presence, full of peace and belonging, that it was truly her long-lost Master. She bowed deeply to him and felt him place an ethereal hand upon her head.

"I am proud of all you have learned, my Padawan." His ethereal voice filled the room.

Tears filled Ashla's eyes. "Master, I have missed you. I have been alone for so long. So many friends have been taken by the Sith and their Empire of evil."

"I know what you have been through. The Force has watched your tribulations and has guided you to this new place to spread the knowledge of the Light Side." The ghost of Agen Kolar said.

"But I am the only Jedi in this new galaxy. There is no one to whom I can teach the ways of The Force."

"There will be. The Force will always find a way. New Jedi will come to you and will need guidance. This is a new galaxy for one steeped in the traditions of the Temple. You must move past the edicts of the Council and rebuild the Order with new vision and purpose. You must care the new path for the followers of the Light Side. But first you must have faith in your own abilities."

As the only Jedi in this new galaxy Ashla wondered who Master Kolar meant for her to teach or just how one went about restarting the Jedi Order from scratch but she had more pressing issues at hand so didn't believe there was time to ask. "I have kept my skills in Djem So and Shein honed but I lack confidence in my other abilities, like Force Sight."

"The ability to swing a lightsaber is only a minute part of being a Jedi. You must concentrate your entire mind on your objective. Think, have you ever felt as if you were part of something much bigger than yourself?" her Master asked.

She thought back to meditation class with her Bear Clan of younglings under the tutelage of Master Yoda back in the last days of the Old Republic. Those memories brought to mind another instance when she had felt the ancient Master's touch.

"Morichro." She gasped.

"Yes, my Padawan. When did you last focus on that ability?"

She knew exactly when. During the event nicknamed the 'big jump' by the beings of _Tarkin's Fist _she had attempted to practice the ability of placing another being or one's self in a state of suspended hibernation. In the middle of her meditation, right before the hyperspace jump, she had been assaulted by someone steeped in the Dark Side, someone who had left his touch on her Master by striking him down during Order 66. But someone had fought that Dark Side adept. Someone alone on a far away desert world, along with another Master of the Light Side on a barely perceptible, swampy world, had help guide her. Those beings had focused her abilities beyond anything she had ever experienced.

"By The Force! I kept them all alive?" She asked the ghost.

"Yes, four sector fleets whose crews would have surely perished due to the great length of the 'big jump', survived because of you. Your grasp of Morichro encompassed them all. That power exceeded anything I could have taught you. As you have already touched the lives of all who serve _Tarkin's Fist_ you surely can feel them as they pass your small asteroid out here. All you have to do, Jedi Knight, is focus on the Light Side of The Force."

She smiled when her Master called her a Knight. Then she closed her eyes and focused on compassion, on honesty, on friendship. With this renewed focus came visions of the faces of Brakatak and the pirate crew of the _Agen's Light_. Then Jason Bogan's face appeared in her mind's eye and something stronger than friendship flooded through her and amplified her concentration.

Ashla didn't have time to ponder the alien emotion because something was moving a few hundred thousand kilometers away. Something that wasn't a mining spacecraft.

"May The Force be with you." Agen's ghost whispered.

"They're here!" She let out a startled gasp but she felt the ghost of her Master vanishing.

"Who's here?" Brakatak asked as he came running into the main hold. Frip was at the big Gran's heels. They must have heard her shout from the adjoining hold.

"Detected a starship, have you?" Frip asked.

"I don't know. Something is passing through the Phasma Belt. We should get to the cockpit." Ashla said.

"We're with you." Brakatak exclaimed. The three of them raced down the cockpit tunnel and startled Rana, who had been leaning back in the captain's chair with her feet up on the control console. She looked as if she might have been napping before they had burst into the cockpit. Keatly and Ashlei crowded in behind them a minute later.

"Do you see them?" Ashlei asked excitedly.

"You're sure you sensed someone out there?" Keatly said. All six of them peered out at the sparsely lit asteroid belt. Light from the distant Sol was only a fraction of what it was on the surface of Mars.

"Should we turn on the subspace radar?" Brakatak wondered aloud.

"It would give us away before we've got eyes on the target." Rana said.

Ashla nodded. She didn't want their first pirating attempt to end in a dismal failure. "Where are the macro-optics?"

"Right here." Ashlei opened a panel on the rear wall of the cockpit and pulled out a pair of macrotelescopes and a handful of macrobinoculars before passing them out amongst the crew.

Brakatak and Rana took the more powerful optic devices. Ashla didn't think the macrobinoculars had a snowball's chance on Tatooine of spotting something out here. She waved Ashlei off when the Firrerreo offered her a pair of them. Instead she put her focus into The Force once again.

A few moments of silence passed in the cockpit as the crew scanned in the direction Ashla indicated.

"There. One hundred sixty thousand kilometers off the port-side docking ring!" Brakatak exclaimed. "Something's moving coreward through the spinward orbit of the asteroids out there." All the optical devices in the cockpit swung in that direction.

"It's big." Ashlei said.

"Huge. If I didn't know any better I'd say it was a giant space slug." Rana stated.

"I know that starship. That's the _Carbon._ The fleet's refining vessel. She must be hauling a load of tibanna to the Fleet around Earth." Keatly said.

"Probably just sailed from the gas-mining facility the Ugnaughts have set up around Earth 5. She's about a hundred times bigger than us and has a crew of a few hundred. Sorry, Ashla, I know tibanna's going at a premium right now but that's too big a target for us to take." Brakatak sighed. Everyone lowered their macro-optics in disappointment.

"That's not what I was talking about. Look to the _Carbon's_ trail, about fifty thousand kilometers to her starboard." Ashla pointed into the blackness of space. Everyone lifted their optics again and scanned the area Ashla had indicated.

"By the Core! That's a _Gizer L-6_ freighter out there. She's almost through the rimward side of the belt." Ashlei exclaimed.

"Doesn't look like a miner heading out to the Kuiper Belt either. If I had to guess I'd say that's the payment barge for all that tibanna." Rana said.

"That's out target then." Brakatak chuckled as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "You did astral, Ashla. Simply astral."

"If see with own eyes I did not, I not believe it. Praise the Core. With you The Force is, friend Ashla." Frip hooted.

Ashla could hardly believe it herself. She was still reeling from the surprise of seeing her Master from beyond the grave and couldn't help wondering if she had felt the starship on her own, or whether Master Kolar had aided her somehow. Just as she was was starting to believe that she truly could detect beings at such a distance, she felt something else coming from the _Gizer L-6_ as it lumbered through the asteroid field: Terrans.

"Everyone gear up and get to their boarding stations." Brakatak ordered. "We're going to seize her. Rana bring the sublights online but do not power up any sensors until we're almost on top of her. Ashlei and Keatly, go prime the ion cannon in the bow."

The two Firrerreons rushed out of the cockpit to their station in the forward bow compartment, where the _Agen's Light's_ newest modification awaited them: a stolen F-2 light ion cannon capable of one sustained bolt every hour.

Frip rushed after them to gather the rest of the crew into a boarding party.

Ashla grabbed Brakatak by the arm before the Gran could leave the cockpit. "There are earthlings on that ship. I can feel them."

Brakatak squinted all three of his eyes in concern. "How do you know? Can you tell one species from another?"

"Earthlings feel different in The Force. I think it was their presence that allowed me to detect that freighter." Ashla said, feeling once again the black, hollow feel of the Force in Jason's species.

"But you can sense other beings onboard her as well, right?"

"Yes, about a dozen. The earthlings number about the same."

"They're probably slave labor for the Ugnaughts." Rana said from the captain's chair.

Ashla looked out the viewport as the _Agen's Light_ started to stealthily move away from the asteroid they had been hiding upon. The Duro brought them into the freighter's ion trail and started gaining on their prey.

"That would be my guess. Let the rest of the crew know, please, Brakatak." Ashla had been a slave for too many years and lived through the horror of that camp on Mars to be a party to anything that led to the deaths of more innocent earthlings.

"I will. I can't stomach slavery any longer, either." Brakatak said, resting his hand on her shoulder in reassurance. "We'll try to help the slaves if we can." He turned and left the cockpit.

Ashla sat down in the co-pilot's chair and helped Rana guide the _Agen's Light_ closer to their query. She flipped on the ship's comm. "Almost in attack position. Is everyone ready?"

"Boarding party ready." Brakatak's voice cut across the comm.

"Ion cannon primed and ready. But can you get a little closer? We've only got one shot at this." Keatly asked from the ship's bow.

"We'll bring her within five thousand kilometers. That should be close enough to engage her over open sights." Rana said. The Duro expertly flittered the _Agen's Light_ from one asteroid cover to the next in an effort to remain undetected by their prey. Ashla thought it was a nerve-wracking job amongst the clutter of the Phasma Belt.

"Rana, if you would be so kind as to show our colors." Brakatak said with a smile in his voice from the starboard docking ring.

Rana flipped a switch on the control panel. On the hull of the _Agen's Light_ several panels retracted, revealing the painted image of a blazing claw, the Home Galaxy's recognized symbol of a pirate vessel. Jason Bogan had argued that it would have been proper in the Milky Way to have painted a silly human skull with a pair of crossbones but he had been over-ruled by the rest of the crew for the absurd notion.

Ashla didn't know if it was the showing of the blazing claw or the sharp eyes of a look-out on the freighter that gave them away, but the _Gizer L-6 _started a hard turn to port and started picking up speed. "They spotted us."

"Activate sensors! Ashlei, Keatly, shut that freighter down!" Rana yelled as she frantically activated the ship's sensors and computer-guided weapon systems.

"They're transmitting. Picking up a hyperspace radio signal from her." Ashla said as she studied the sensor screens.

"Blasting!" Ashlei's voice shouted across the comm.

A blue bolt streaked ahead of the _Agen's Light_ toward their intended prey. Ashla held her breath as she watched the highly ionized plasma flash through the asteroids to impact directly in the port-side hull of the _Gizer L-6_. The freighter's lights blinked on and off for a few seconds before cutting out completely. The glow from the freighter's engines faded to nothing from the ion attack.

"Great shot girls. That was one-in-a-million!" Rana shouted across the comm. The Duro slapped Ashla on the back for a job well done.

"We're not done yet. We've still got to seize her cargo and take care of whatever that crew has waiting for us." Ashla said with more than a little trepidation. Pirating could be, and often was, a fatal business for the pirates involved. A million things could still go wrong.

Ashla got up and excused herself. She made her way back to the starboard docking ring as Rana pulled the _Agen's Light_ alongside the crippled _Gizer L-6_.

The rest of the crew was already waiting for her when she arrived. She almost laughed out loud at how fierce and menacing they were pretending to be. Everyone wore rebreathers over their faces in case the freighter had decompressed somehow in the attack. Erw and Raf wore blue scarves over their rebreathers in what Ashla assumed was a poor attempt at a disguise. The two Utais carried force pikes twice as tall as they were and she wondered what good the weapons would do them in close quarters. Brakatak and Frip both carried E-11 blaster rifles. They had obtained ankle length dusters that made them look more like some backrocket, Outer-Rim nerf-herders than vicious pirates. Ashlei and Keatly carried a Q-2 hold out blaster and a Luxan penetrator respectively. All of them carried enough vibroblades to arm a small army.

Lastly, the earthling Jason Bogan carried a DL-44 heavy blaster that he called his 'Megatron' after some sort of transformable toy he had owned as a youngling. He had lost the ridiculous eye-patch but wore a green bandana over his head. Somehow he had acquired knee-high bantha-leather boots, which he claimed gave him the proper look to be something he called a 'Buccaneer'. He winked at her when he saw her and even behind his rebreather she could tell he was trying to smile at her.

She didn't know why but she smiled back at him before she donned her own mask. _Why was the boy such an enigma?_

"Alright, everybody, set your weapons for stun." Brakatak ordered. "Ashla says they may have slaves on board." Everyone changed the settings on their own weapons except for Jason, who had to be shown how by Raf.

"I'll go first. Let me clear out the first few guards and then you can board her." Ashla said. Again the crew nodded. They had all seen what the Jedi could do in a fight.

"Don't waste no time sightseeing either. That freighter sent out a distress signal before we ionized her." Rana said from the cockpit tunnel. "I'd give it less than half an hour before a relief vessel gets out here on sublights."

"You heard her. Erw, is the boarding tunnel attached and pressurized?" Brakatak asked.

The Utai squeaked an affirmative response. Ashla reached out with The Force and detected several beings aboard the freighter, standing right at their intended entrance. "They're ready for us."

Everyone tensed up. Their thumbs slid across their weapons' firing stubs. Brakatak nodded. Erw popped the hatch. Cold darkness seeped out of the tunnel. Ashlei raised a glowlamp into the abyss. At the other end was the _Gizer L-6's_ emergency escape hatch.

"Keatly, open her up. I've got you covered." Ashla said. The two of them entered the weightlessness of the plastoid tunnel where the inertial dampers of the _Agen's Light_ had no effect on them. The Firrerreo slicer broke the entrance code on the hatch in less than ten seconds. Ashla motioned for Keatly to retreat back out of the tunnel before placing her own feet on the freighter's hull. She gripped the hatch's handle and pulled the door backwards. It opened with a moaning creak.

The interior of the _Gizer L-6_ was a black void, its overhead lamps still lacking power due to the ion attack.

Ashla reacted on instinct even before she felt the threat with her echolocating montrals. A thermal detonator soared through the air towards her. She halted its forward motion with a simple telekinetic Force Grip and heaved the small object back in the direction it came.

Two seconds later the thermal detonator exploded.

Ashla threw up a Force Shield to contain the blast to the _Gizer L-6_ only moments before the blast rocked both ships. As soon as the explosion subsided she pushed herself through the hatch and landed on the deck of the stricken freighter. She ignited both of her lightsabers and scanned the area.

Half a dozen Ugnaught bodies floated in the zero-gravity of the _Gizer L-6's_ access corridor. Blood free-floated everywhere, staining wherever it landed on her clothes and skin. Several of the crewmen were dead, killed by the thermal detonator they had hoped would cripple the _Agen's Light_. Two of the Ugnaughts twitched and moaned from the agonizing pain of their injuries. Ashla found herself wishing she were a Jedi healer and could alleviate their pain, but she was not and so she pushed past the injured crew.

One of the wounded Ugnaughts cried out as she went past. She tried to ignore him as she navigated down the lightsaber-lit tunnel. A moment later she felt her pirate crew following her onto the ship and administering first-aid to the wounded Ugnaughts, which silenced them some.

She reached the freighter's main crew quarter without incident but sensed someone in the tunnel at the far side of the room as she entered. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck raised in anticipation. She echolocated to locate the hidden assailants. She pulled both of her lightsabers up into the high guard position and then went blind as someone ahead of her turned on a portable emergency glowlamp directly in her face.

She counter-attacked based on where she had last located her attackers with her montrals. She heard the ring of blaster bolts being fired. Her weapons hummed like angry insects as dozens of blaster bolts ricocheted back down the corridor. One of the bolts deflected off of her blue blade and smashed the glowlamp, pitching the quarters into darkness once again.

The bolts stopped. Ashla crouched with both weapons held over her montrals, breathing heavily from the sudden exertion of her defense.

She came to her full height and cautiously moved forward. She held her green blade in front of her and the blue blade to her rear until she spotted the first of three bodies in the hallway ahead of her. Two human guards along with one Rodian lay dead with blaster bolt holes burned cleanly through their chests. One of the humans still clutched the smashed glowlamp. She recognized their uniforms. They were from Concentration Camp 1138.

Moving forward again, she felt fear from the group of earthlings ahead of her in the main cargo hold. They felt like panicked bantha in the Force. The last three crewmen of the _Gizer L-6_ were there, too, and she could sense them tensing up for a fight. Ashla could hear the crew of the _Agen's Light_ ransacking the freighter behind her, then spreading out across the starship as they looked for undiscovered loot.

She needed to disable the remaining crewmen before one of her pack stumbled upon them in the dark. She pushed off a nearby wall and floated down the nearest hallway. She got to the last three Ugnaught guards just as Raf and Jason Bogan arrived on the scene. Before she could deflect them blaster bolts shot out in every direction. Jason groaned and crumpled backwards.

The icy fingers of fear gripped Ashla's mind at the thought of losing one of her packmates. Without thinking she propelled herself into the nearest Ugnaught with both lightsabers. With a flick of her wrist she thrust both blades into the hapless guard's torso. The blue and green blades protruded far out the porcine crewman's back. The nearby earthlings gasped but she didn't have time to consider their feelings on the matter.

Raf threw his forcepike, and it impacted with the forehead of the second Ugnaught. The shock from the weapon's charge incapacitated the sentry, knocking him out cold. The remaining Ugnaught swung his blaster at the now defenseless Utai. Once again Ashla felt her anger rise as the Ugnaught pushed his firing stub. She flung her green saber across the room, where it narrowly deflected the bolt into the nearest bulkhead. She lifted her hand and telekinetically retrieved her weapon before reaching out with The Force toward her last adversary.

She felt The Force wrap itself around the male's throat as she used a Force Grip to slam him into the ceiling. The tough Ugnaught didn't pass out from the impact and so she continued to throttle him. His blaster swung wildly and poured unaimed bolts throughout the room. Several of the nearby earthlings slumped over and faded from The Force. As the death toll rose Ashla let the rage course through her unckecked. She wanted the Ugnaught to die.

His face turned a nasty purple as bubbling gurgles came from his gullet. He kicked wildly in the air while he flayed about. He dropped his weapon as his hands went to his meaty throat.

Something tugged at her soul . . . Something bad . . . Something evil . . . Something _Dark._

"No," Ashla gasped and released the guard, shocked by what she had almost done. Raf retrieved his forcepike and scooted forward to take the gasping crewman prisoner. Out of the corner of her eye Ashla saw Raf glance sideways at her, as if he were unsure how to react to what she had done. She shuddered from the shame she felt. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. How could Master Kolar expect her to bring the Light Side into this new galaxy when she could brush so close to the Dark Side?

Ashla deactivated her lightsabers and spun around to find Jason. She came to his side and was relieved to find that he was not only still alive but trying to turn upright in the zero gravity. He had a large hole in his left arm but the plasma bolt had instantly cauterized the wound, leaving only burns and intense pain in its wake. He held his wounded arm with his other hand.

"We did it, Ashla. We took the ship. We're real pirates now." Jason smiled up at her in a light-headed daze. His rebreather had been knocked free when he had been blasted and he looked like a pasty ghost of himself.

"Yes, we did. You need to get back to the _Light_ and have Rana get some bacta on that." Ashla pointed to the earthling's arm.

"Tis but a scratch." Jason sucked in air in pain. Ashla wasn't sure why but the earthling seemed to be attempting to affect a Core-World accent.

"A scratch! There's a kriffing hole in your arm." Ashla said incredulously.

"No there isn't."

Ashla wondered if the earthling was delirious. "Well what's that then?"

"I've had worse." Jason boasted with a forced grin.

Ashla blinked, not sure if Jason was delirious or not. "You have not."

"Excuse me, Miss, but I think he's quoting Monty Python." One of the earthlings said from across the room. "It's a movie from our world. You from Earth, Kid?"

Ashla turned her head to see a chained male addressing her. Ashla guessed that he was somewhere in his fifties by near-human standards. Besides him, eight other earthlings were huddled along the far wall and chained together by shock collars. Ashla recognized their red utility suits from the camp. Four more slaves floated limply in their chains, killed by the last Ugnaught's errant blaster bolts.

"Raf, help them free would you?" Ashla asked the nearby Utai. Raf poked the last guard with his forcepike, which provoked him enough to give up the key to the chains.

"I'm from Massachusetts." Jason told the older male, who was in the process of slipping off his chains.

"Really? I've been through Boston quite a few times. I'm from Upper California myself, about an hour outside of San Francisco." The male said. Ashla figured they must be discussing their home nations on their planet.

At just that moment Frip and Keatly showed up. They were escorting the now heavily bandaged pair of wounded Ugnaughts from the crew's entry point. Frip guided them over to the other captured Ugnaught and helped Raf maintain their guard. Keatly didn't need to be told but immediately set to work disarming the slaves' shock collars.

"Raf, Frip, see if one of the Uglies there has the slave chip detonator." Ashla said. The Utai kept the captured guards covered with his forcepike while Frip searched the crewmens' pockets. A minute later the Ishi Tib extracted a small signaling device from one of the captured males' leg pouch.

"That's it. Deactivate it." Ashla said. She turned back to Jason. "So, you're pulling my lekku? You're going to be alright?"

"I think so. Hurts like hell though. I wouldn't mind some of that bacteria stuff though." Jason replied, wincing slightly.

"Bacta. And it should help." She tried to give him a reassuring smile.

Jason turned back to the earthling from Upper California. "How did you guys get out here? I thought the Empire was trying to use all of us up on Mars?"

"They are. We were in a giant concentration camp there . . ."

"We know the place." Ashla said. The earthling looked at her as if she was the first alien who had ever spoken to him. Odds were she was.

"This morning they grabbed a bunch of us out of our barracks and gave us over to these pig people." The earthling pointed at the Ugnaught guards. "They said we were going to mine for gas at some place called Earth 5." The freed slave said.

"It's what they call Jupiter. My friends here say there's some kind of huge ammo factory or something out that way." Jason told him.

"Your friends? How did a Massachusetts kid get hooked up with this gang of alien . . . space pirates? They are pirates, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes. We're the worst kind of scum and villainy." Brakatak exclaimed as he floated into the hold. Erw was right behind the big Gran. They carried a large, metal barrel between them, which they then wedged against one of the hold's bulkheads so it wouldn't fly away.

"Several liters of glitterstim spice." Brakatak indicated the canister. Ashla's eyes went wide at the small fortune in narcotics. Erw handed Brakatak a sealed plastoid vial and a green pouch. "900 grams of hollinium hyperbaride and . . ." the Gran dug a small gem out of the pouch, ". . . a Gallinorean rainbow gem."

Raf and Keatly both whistled out loud while Frip let out an admiring hoot. "Purchase a Calamarian cruiser that loot can do."

"You must be earthers. I recognize your camp uniforms." Brakatak said to the older slave. "My name is Brakatak and these are the pirates of the _Agen's Light_." Brakatak offered his hand. The earthling looked nervously at the Gran's outstretched appendage before taking it in his own.

"My name is Father George, but you just can call me George." the earthling said.

"Are you a Catholic priest?" Jason asked as Ashla helped him to stay upright. Ashla figured they must be talking about some kind of political office or important position on their world.

"Yes, I am. We were on a nondenominational mission retreat with several other American churches in Micronesia when the aliens invaded the island we were on and picked us all up. Over there is Pastor Lawson." One of the other human males waved, "Dennis is a Methodist Minister from Scotland. These others are a few of our remaining church volunteers and students who were captured along with us."

"A priest and a minister go into the asteroid belt. What is this, the start of some kind of joke?" Jason chuckled. Most of the earthlings laughed. Ashla didn't get it.

"You guys are welcome to come with us to Mars. We can't get you back to Earth with the Fleet there, but we'll do what we can to help you once we get back to the capital." Brakatak offered. "Beats whatever the Ugnaughts had in store for you."

"That's mighty kind of you. Thank you, friend." Father George said. Ashla wasn't sure but she thought she saw tears in the near-human's eyes. She certainly felt an over-riding sense of relief flow through the male's slippery Force aura.

"Keatly and Ashlei can you show our guests back to the _Light_." George chuckled at Brakatak's choice of words.

"This way, ladies and gentlebeings." Ashlei motioned for the freed slaves to follow her down the access corridor that led back to the _Agen's Light_.

"Erw and Raf, I think we've found all there is to find aboard this vessel. No need to scuttle her; that will just cause more problems with the Ugnaughts and the Empire. Jason, go with the Utais back to the ship and get that arm taken care of right away. If we're lucky you won't need a cybernetic." Brakatak ordered.

Ashla could feel a sense of fear about his injury wash over Jason and she reacted instinctively and immediately, wishing with all her heart that she could do something to help him. He was, after all, part of her pack now. No, she told herself, he was, or could be, more than that. But that voice in her head was still small and therefore easily ignored.

The Utais squeaked an affirmative in Huttese and both of them rushed over to help their injured comrade. The two Firrereon girls led the last of the earthlings out of the hold before the two Utais carefully led Jason after them.

"Ashla, can you and Frip grab the loot?" Brakatak asked. "That is what we came here for, after all."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Frip hooted.

Ashla and Frip floated over to the canister and grabbed both ends of it. Frip slipped the gem pouch and vial of hollimium hyperbaride into a pocket in his trousers.

Across the room Brakatak floated over to the surviving Ugnaughts. Ashla motioned for Frip to slow down. The Ishi Tib instead stopped to listen to what the Gran was telling the last crewmen of the _Gizer L-6_.

"You keep your lips shut when you talk to the Empire's goons. Get back to Earth 5 and tell your Chief that if he wants pirating to stop against his shipments he needs to come and find me. Otherwise it's going to get kriffing pricey to operate in the Phasma Belt. You heard enough here to be able to track me down in Culter City. Understand?" Brakatak was doing his best to sound menacing and Ashla did her best not to laugh out loud at how out of character such threats sounded coming from the big Gran. The Ugnaughts nodded their heads that they would obey.

Brakatak looked over to Ashla. "Are they sincere?" the Gran asked, referring to the Ugnaughts.

Ashla could feel the males' fear, and when mixed with the loyalty they felt for their tribe and it was enough for her. "They will do as you ask."

"Astral. Let's get our _shebs_ back to the ship then." Brakatak urged.

They pushed the canister of spice ahead of them as they entered the darkened access tunnel of the _Gizer_ _L-6_. Ashla looked over her shoulder one last time at the Ugnaught guards they were leaving behind. The males were slumped over in dejection, lit only by a solitary emergency glowlamp and surrounded by the bodies left in the hold.

With the battle over, Ashla finally allowed herself to process the rage she had felt within the angry grip of the Dark Side when she had feared that Jason Bogan had been killed. This is why I was taught never to form attachments, she told herself as they floated through the crew compartment where she had battled the three camp guards. But she had always formed attachments. Her youngling friends in the Bear Clan, her loose packs of fellow slaves during years on the run from the Empire, and over the past two years with Brakatak and the rest of the crew of the _Agen's Light_. Still, there was something different about her attachment to Jason Bogan.

They reached the docking corridor that led back to the _Agen's Light_, a bright shaft of light from their vessel illuminated the corridor as if welcoming them home. Brakatak and Frip went first with the loot while Ashla stayed to the rear to make sure the guards hadn't followed and to dog shut the hatch on the _Gizer L-6_. Gravity came back as they returned to the grip of the Corellian freighter's inertial dampers. As soon as she was through the tunnel Erw clamped the docking ring closed behind her while Ashlei got to work disengaging the docking clamps that tethered their starship to the crippled freighter.

Just as they got their feet underneath them something impacted the _Agen's Light,_ causing the ship to lurch radically. Everyone in the main hold tried to grab something for balance. Raf and a few of the newly freed earthlings went pitching across the deck and tools and gear fell from the crowded walls.

A loose toolbox fell on Brakatak's head. "Oww! Rana!"

More turbulence from impacts rocked the ship. Father George and the rest of the earthers looked frightened out of their wits. If Ashla had to guess, so was the rest of the crew.

"That was no asteroid! Something blasted us." Ashla yelled.

Rana's voice suddenly called across the comlink. "Ashla, Brakatak get up here!"


	52. Brakatak 4

_**Agen's Light**_**, Corellian Engineering Corporation _YT-2000_ stock light-freighter, Sol System**

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Brakatak rushed into the _Agen Light's_ cockpit. On his heels were his friends Frip and Ashla. Rana was working frantically at the controls of the vessel, trying to avoid their unseen pursuers.

A metallic thud came from the starboard side of the starship as the docking clamps that had held the _Agen's Light_ to the captured _Gizer L-6_ were released.

"Thank the Force, we're free at last." Rana exclaimed as she transferred power to the sublight drive. The ship pitched into a downward maneuver before flipping rapidly onto her back. Rana narrowly dodged a trio of small asteroids that had been in their path.

"What's going on?" Brakatak asked as he slipped into the co-pilot's chair.

"Get the shields up. Full power to the rear deflector shields." Rana ordered.

Brakatak followed the order without hesitation. "Rear deflectors up. Why not the forward shields? We are in an asteroid field."

Rana directed the starship into an evasive twist as a blaster bolt raced ahead of the cockpit. The bolt streaked through the place where the _Agen's Light_ had just been. Rana spun the Corellian freighter in a quick hundred and eighty degree turn. "Because of that."

Now ahead of them was a _YV-929_ armed heavy freighter. Its stronger shields allowed it to plow its way through the lighter field of asteroids near to the exit route miners had carved through the Phasma Belt.

"Our blasters won't do much against their shields and the ion cannon won't be recharged for another thirty minutes. We're going to have to outrun her." Ashla said.

"There's no way it can keep up with the _Light_. Looks like they're trying to cut us off from Mars and drive us rimward." Rana said.

"Well that guarantees it's not an Imperial vessel. They'd want to keep us from leaving the system. I bet it's the Ugnaught's Chief come out here to protect his payment." Ashla said. "He's turning us back towards Earth 5."

"He's a few starships short of a fleet if he thinks he'll catch us with that poodoo barge. Rana, haul jets out of here. We'll lose them in the thicker stretches of the belt." Brakatak said.

"Wait, the freighter's skin alive is." Frip exclaimed pointing his scaly finger out the viewport.

Rana put the _Light_ completely on her vertical axis as the Duro pilot narrowly squeezed their way through two heavy plasma bolts. Everyone leaned closer to the forward viewport to get a better glimpse at their pursuer. Across the hull of the _YV-929_ large, winged machines were moving into their launch positions, giving the freighter's hull the appearance of a transforming hide.

"Vulture droids!" Ashla and Rana exclaimed together.

"Fierfek." Brakatak squinted all three of his eyes at the heavy freighter. Just as he made out the distinctive shape of one of the moving objects on her hull the droid attack craft launched into the void. They formed up into three groups of four and drove straight into the asteroid belt after the _Agen's __Light_. "There are at least a dozen of them. Can you outrun them?"

"I don't know. In a straight run our sublight engines might be the fastest things in this sector but they'll be on us in a few minutes if I have to maneuver around every other rock and piece of junk out here." Rana said.

"You do. I'll help out but we need you two on the tri-cannons." Ashla ordered as she shoved Brakatak out of the co-pilot's chair.

Brakatak gave it to her without a thought. He smacked Frip in the chest to get his attention. "Come on they're not paying us to stand around."

"We is paid?" Frip asked as he backed out of the cockpit, still watching the approaching Vultures as they closed with the _Light._ Rana swept the Corellian freighter's nose upwards and away from their hunters. The droid fighters vanished from their forward view as she turned the craft away from them.

Brakatak turned and sprinted down the cockpit access corridor with Frip hot on his heels.

Brakatak skidded to a halt in the ship's main hold. The room was full of the newly freed slaves from the _Gizer L-6_. The group had declared themselves to be some sort of missionary cult group or something from Earth but Brakatak hadn't had time to dig too deeply into that claim.

He pushed his way through the crowd, which rapidly made way for the alien barging through them. As he ran he noticed Ashlei and Keatly bandaging Jason Bogan with the ship's emergency medpac.

The two Utais in his crew urgently squeaked something in their language when Brakatak appeared. They had been trying to settle the former slaves into seats around the hold where they would be out of the crew's way. Instead the near-humans were wandering around and inspecting everything. Several of them, including their leader, Father George, were attempting to help the Firrerreo girls give medical aid to Jason. Jason's arm was slathered in kolto and Keatly was attempting to wrap a grav-press bandage around the wound.

"Erw, Raf, get on the engines. We're dead beings if the sublight drives give out." As if to emphasize the seriousness of the situation the _Agen's Light_ gave a shudder as it shook off another asteroid hit.

The small delay gave Frip the chance to race ahead of Brakatak and reach the tri-laser access tube first. Frip put his hands on the side of the half-circle ladder and kept his feet away from the rungs as he slid down into the ventral cannon position.

Brakatak hit the ladder just as Frip's head cleared the tube. Breathing heavily with the anxiety of the situation, Brakatak hurriedly climbed up into the dorsal cannon turret.

It was a tight fit for the over-sized Gran. He had to squeeze between the controls for the AG-2G Tri-laser cannon and the turret seat. He powered up the cannon. Knowing that it would take a minute before the weapon would be primed and ready, he reached under the seat for the adjustment knob, figuring one of the smaller Firrerreos or maybe Jason had been in the seat last. He positioned the turret's comlink headset over his right ear and mouth.

Once the seat was in a more comfortable position he swiveled the turret back in forth in its sponson. When he rotated towards the stern he spotted the onrushing cloud of asteroids ahead. Rana raced for a thicker field of rocks in hopes of losing their pursuers there. He rotated to the aft and the targeting computer instantly identified the twelve Vulture droids that were quickly closing with the _Agen's Light_. Their engines were blue glows against the bleakness of the Big Isn't.

Brakatak was surprised that any of them had made it through the 'big jump'. Once the main stay of the Separatist Fleet during the Clone Wars, the Vultures had largely disappeared from the Home Galaxy after the Imperial victory. In the decade since the war they were only used out in the remotest of Outer Rim systems or the occasional pirate gang.

"Call out those fighters." Ashla said over the comlink.

"Five o'clock high bandits is." Frip hooted as a stream of red laser blasts emerged from the underside of the hull. The Vulture droids easily dodged the incoming blasts as they plunged into the thicker belt right behind the _Agen's Light_.

"Hold your blasts until the tinnies are closer, Fish-face." Brakatak yelled back down the tunnel.

The _Light_ turned into the asteroid storm and as Rana completed her turn asteroids of all shapes and sizes came straight for Brakatak's turret viewports.

A mountain-sized boulder tumbled into the _Light's_ path at top speed. Several smaller meteorites crashed into the small planetoid, where they created rippling explosions along its surface. Other asteroids of all sizes collided and shattered, sending more debris into their flight path. Brakatak prayed to Gran gods he hadn't thought of in years that the _Agen's Light's_ shields would hold.

The _Agen's Light_ veered around the big asteroid and raced through the rain of fist-sized rocks, followed by the first flight of four Vultures, which frantically bobbed and weaved around the asteroids.

One of the pursuing droids connected with an hovertank-sized asteroid and exploded. The other fighters were pelted with a steady stream of smaller explosions caused by their unlucky brethren.

Two huge asteroids tumbled toward the _Agen's Light_ and Rana quickly banked the light freighter around both of them. Eleven Vultures still followed in hot pursuit until one of the droid fighters scraped an asteroid and tumbled out of control into deep space. Its fiery death stung Brakatak's eyes for a moment.

Asteroids raced by the turret viewport as Rana and Ashla piloted the herd's trusty craft through the dangerous field. Looking out the viewport Brakatak watched in terror as a large chunk of nickle-iron alloy dropped past the viewport, narrowly missing their starship.

Frip hooted and whistled across the comlink in horror as a slightly smaller asteroid came especially close, too close, and bounced off the _Light_ with a loud, scrapping crunch.

"C'mon Rana. You're the best pilot in the system but none of us want to be around when you make a mistake." Brakatak said.

"We're going to get pulverized out here." Ashla said, worry filling her voice.

"I'm not going to argue with that." Rana said.

"Pulverized?" Frip whistled in alarm.

"I'm going in closer to one of the big ones." Rana said.

"Closer?" Brakatak exclaimed, sure that the Duro pilot had lost her mind.

The _Agen's Light_ dove toward the surface of one of the moon-sized asteroids. There was a constant silent chaos of pin wheeling and shattering rocks against the starry void as smaller asteroids collided with larger chunks of rock. Two of the remaining ten fighters followed the _Light_ to the large planetoid while the others held back. The _Agen's Light_ skimmed the surface of the planetoid as small asteroids impacted and crumpled against the ship's shields.

The pair of Vultures on their tail approached the _Light_ as she dove towards a narrow canyon that ran between two impact craters. Just as they moved into a blasting position a giant asteroid hurtled directly into their path. Rana hit the afterburner and dove the ship for the planetoid's surface. The _Light_ squeezed through the narrow space between the asteroid and planetoid with only centimeters to spare. When the asteroid passed Brakatak saw that it had left the demolished remains of the two persistant Vultures tumbling back into the Void.

"The other two groups of Vultures are circling around this rock. They're aiming to cut us off from the system core." Ashla said across the comlink. The copilot's chair gave her the best view of the ship's subspace radar so Brakatak wasn't about to argue. Well that and who better to know than a Jedi.

"They'll be on us again in a minute or two."

Brakatak scanned back and forth across the asteroid field as they continued to skim the surface of the larger rock. They were close to the rimward side of the Phasma Belt at the moment. He turned his eyestalks to a bright, beige object that shone against the starry bleakness of the Milky Way.

"Hey, Rana, can we make a run for Earth 5? We can lose these flying tinnies in her atmosphere." Brakatak suggested.

"Fierfek. It's worth a shot." Rana replied. The _Agen's Light_ pulled away from the large asteroid and streaked towards the largest planet in the local system, what the earthlings called Jupiter. Brakatak could hear the increased whine of the reactor as Rana pushed the sublight drives hard. Twenty seconds later they were weaving their way through the last of the rimward asteroids in the field.

"They be on us." Frip hooted.

Brakatak turned his turret to the aft of the ship. Sure enough, eight engine exhausts could be seen coming around the horizon of the large asteroid they had just left. The fighters were still grouped in flights of four and as Brakatak watched it became obvious that at least one of the flights would intercept them long before they reached the assumed safety of Earth 5's storm-ridden atmosphere.

Brakatak keyed his comlink to talk to Frip, "Come on, buddy, we're not out of this yet!"

"Me ready is. You ready, tri-clops? Sharp stay." Frip replied.

Brakatak scanned the digitized readouts on the targeting computer and reached for the controls. He placed both thumbs over the tri-cannon's blasting stubs.

"Here they come!" Ashla warned.

The second flight of four droids moved towards the _Agen's Light_, two each veered off to the port and starboard of the Corellian freighter. The stars whipped by the big Gran as he adjusted his targetting joystick.

The first Vulture droid raced past the _Light__,_ blasting plasma bolts as it went by. Inside Brakatak's turret the freighter's bulkheads bounced and vibrated from the impacts, causing the power to cut out for a second before returning.

Another Vulture maneuvered in front of Brakatak, who kept all three eyes focused on it as he blasted at it with the tri-laser cannon. Frip did likewise from under the ship as the fighter streaked into the Ishi Tibs view. The _Light_ bounced slightly again from a minor hit.

Two Vultures dove down towards the stock-light freighter. Brak heard Frip blasting away at another unseen fighter. Brakatak felt sweat start to run along his skin as fear and anxiety rushed through his veins.

"Come too fast they are!" Frip yells. Two of the fighters charged directly out of six o'clock high, plasma bolts streaking from both craft. The _Agen's Light_ shuddered as a laser bolt hit very close to the cockpit. Brak heard Ashla mumble something across the comlink but couldn't make it out. He hoped it wasn't important.

"We've lost lateral controls!" Rana yelled.

"_E chu ta_. Please hold together girl." Brakatak whispered to the silent hull next to him. An enemy laser bolt hit the turret, causing a shower of sparks to rain down on Brakatak. "You hear me, baby? Hold together."

His targeting computer showed that Frip was tracking a target below him. Frip swiveled his cannon mount as he followed a Vulture with his tri-laser. Brakatak aimed his own cannon on the spot where the fighter should emerge from under the hull. A Vulture suddenly flashed by in front of the starship.

Frip blasted at the fighter while Brakatak unleashed a stream of laser bolts towards the target. He connected and the fighter exploded into fiery dust.

Brakatak laughed victoriously. Two more Vultures passed over the ___Agen's Light's_ top deck and unleashed a barrage of plasma bolts at the ship. The third fighter moved in from underneath and Frip turned his cannon on it and scored a spectacular direct hit.

"Got him! Got him I did!"

Brakatak turned in his seat and gave his friend a victory wave across the tunnel, which Frip gleefully returned. "Great, Fishy. Don't get cocky."

Brakatak turned back to his laser cannon. Two more Vultures crossed in front of the freighter.

"There's still two more of them out there." Ashla said.

A Vulture moved up over the freighter again and blasted plasma bolts into their shields.

Brakatak glared at his projected target screen. An ex-separatist fighter crossed his port side and Brakatak followed it with blasts from his laser cannon. The Vulture zoomed toward the _Light,_ blasting destructive bolts at it as it dove in for the kill. The pirate ship bounced slightly as it was struck by the enemy bolts.

Frip blasted a laser bolt into another approaching droid fighter, which caused it to burst into a cataclysmic explosion. The rear deflectors glowed green as pieces of the destroyed droid vaporized against the energy shield.

The last surviving Vulture of the second flight bored in, blasting upon the _Agen's __Light_.

Brakatak swiveled behind his cannon, his aim describing the arc of the droid fighter. The fighter came closer, firing at the stock-light freighter, but a well-aimed blast from Brakatak's laser cannon tore into the attacker, which blew up in a small atomic shower of burning fragments.

"Yee-hah!" Brakatak yelled.

"We're not out of it yet. We've still got that last group closing on us." Ashla said.

Brakatak traversed his turret to the stern. Earth 5 loomed large in his viewport. The atmosphere of the gas giant was banded with thousands of murderous storms, the largest of which was a giant red spot in the planet's southern hemisphere. "Will we make it?"

"We'll beat them there but we won't last long in those corrosive storms." Rana said.

"That Cardon Space Station the Ugnauts are using for a tibanna mining facility is floating in that huge storm's wake. It's the only safe place on the whole stang world." Ashla said.

"Head for that. Rana try to lose them in the clutter of all that refining equipment." Brakatak ordered.

"Sounds good enough for me." The Duro responded. The ship gave a slight shudder as she skimmed the upper magnetosphere of the gas giant. The _Agen's Light_ kept her shields at full power to allow her sublights to continue at full speed inside an atmosphere.

"Follow us they are." Frip hooted a warning. Brakatak spun his turret around. Sure enough, the last flight of droid fighters dove through the upper layers of ammonia clouds after the _Agen's Light_.

Ammonia crystals beaded up on the viewport as Rana banked into a storm cloud in an effort to lose their pursuers. Powerful winds buffeted the ship nonstop, causing it to vibrate. Brakatak's viewport went from light to dark to light again as Rana flashed through one cloud bank after another. He caught occasional glimpses of the droid fighters in their wake but not enough to get a target lock on.

The starship plunged into darkness one more time before emerging into a sun-drenched stretch of open sky that reminded Brakatak of the eye of a hurricane he had once been through as a youngling on Kinyen. On the other side of the open space rested the giant tibanna gas mining facility. Artificial glowlamps shone from thousands of viewports along the city's durasteel hull.

The Cardan Space Station had been dragged along by the Subterrel Sector Fleet during the 'big jump' almost three years ago. Seeing no use for the station the then Fleet Admiral Yos had deeded the station to a tribe of Ugnaughts and another five hundred former slaves as a tibanna mining facility. With the war on Earth going on the price of tibanna had hyperjumped through the Outer Rim. The Ugnaughts had used their newfound wealth to transform the station into a small city amongst the clouds.

"Looks like something you'd find on Faargau or out on Bespin back home." Rana said.

The four Vultures emerged suddenly from the cloud bank behind them. Brakatak unleashed a stream of laser bolts but at that distance the droids easily evaded them.

"Look at the top superstructure. It's still undergoing a lot of construction. We might be able to lose them in there." Ashla said. Brakatak didn't have time to spin his chair forward again without losing sight of the four fighters to their rear. He just hoped the Jedi knew what she was talking about.

A pair of _Storm IV_ twin-pod cloud cars raced towards them from the city on an intercept course. Rana banked the _Agen's Light_ away from the new pursuers and put some distance between themselves and the slower atmospheric airspeeders.

The Corellian freighter flashed across the surface of the city, dodging several reinforced buildings and large pieces of refining equipment to reach the unfinished portion of the mining facility. The cloud cars and remaining Vultures were right on their tail. Brakatak blasted off a few poorly aimed bolts at the attackers in an effort to discourage them from closing too fast.

"There." Rana yelled.

Brakatak spun his chair forward again to see what she was indicating. An immense hole lay on the surface of the construction zone like a gaping maw.

"Here goes nothing." She said.

Rana flipped the _Light_ upside down and dove into the superstructure of the giant mining facility. The cloud cars stopped their pursuit at the edge of the hole but the four droid fighters dove in after Brakatak and his pirates.

The _Agen's Light_ led the chase through the ever-narrowing shaft. Glow lamps reflected off of Brakatak's face as he watched red and gray pipes and electrical conduits flash by at a distance of what he guessed was only a meter or two from his turret. He wasn't sure if his heart was still beating, he was so full of fear at that moment. One mistake would cost them all their lives.

"Stay alert. We could run out of space real fast." He said.

The _Light_ and the Vultures raced through the tunnel. As they spun into a turn Frip unleashed a volley that connected with one of the Vultures, causing it to impact with the sides of the tunnel. The stricken Vulture richocheted off several walls and machinery before exploding in a fiery cloud in the middle of the tunnel. The other three Vultures streaked through the debris without losing a beat.

Brakatak swiveled his chair forward. All he could do was watch as Rana turned the freighter onto her side to squeeze through a vertical passageway in the main tunnel. It narrowed for a second and the _Light_ scraped the side dangerously. The impact sounded as if the Force had smacked the Agen's Light with a giant sledgehammer. The two leading droid fighters continued to blast away at them.

"That was close." Rana admitted.

Brakatak nodded silently in agreement. He looked to where the subspace radar dish used to be mounted on the hull and noted that the sensor had been flattened in the impact.

They made another sharp turn down an auxiliary tunnel. One of the Vultures took the turn too wide and scratched a massive gas pipeline, knocking off one of its stabilizers. The droid spun wildly before it slammed into a low hung gantry and exploded.

Brakatak blazed away at the remaining two pursuers. Bolts emerging from the underside of the hull told him that Frip was doing the same. Brakatak tried to put thoughts of a fiery crash aside as he concentrated on the droid fighters. The Vultures ducked and weaved through the tunnel just behind the _Agen's Light_. Their speed and the confines of the passageway never allowed either side to get more than a second or two to aim at the other.

Suddenly they emerged into a huge empty area in the center of the space station. Brakatak risked a glance to the side and spotted a towering reactor that provided power for the city and mining facility. He thought about strafing the vulnerable power source for a second but he wasn't sure if the _Agen's Light_ would escape the resulting explosion in time. And even if they did the Imperial Navy would place a target the size of the ___Death _Star on his back for knocking out their only source of ammo. Plus, he didn't know how he could live with himself if he inadvertently murdered the hundreds of innocent miners who lived in the cloud city.

He kept his cannons aimed on the two droids, which emerged from the tunnel right on their tail.

Rana dove into another tunnel on the far side of the chamber and Brakatak hoped this was an exit that led back to the surface. He didn't know how much longer he could handle the claustrophobic confines of the tunnels.

The new tunnel was full of pipes and conduits just like the last except Brakatak noticed there were more out-venting steam and so were probably full of fresh tibanna. His suspicion was confirmed a second later when one of the remaining droids slammed into a raised tube in the tunnel floor, rupturing the pipe and causing an explosion that raced along the walls of the tunnel.

Rana maneuvered the _Agen's Light_ through the winding infrastructure of the facility, staying just ahead of the continuous chain of explosions. The last remaining Vulture was hard on their tail.

Brakatak watched helplessly as the explosions came closer and closer to their aft hull. He didn't think they were going to make it.

Rana made one last turn and suddenly there was an opening ahead, bright with sunlight.

The explosions were almost upon them. The last Vulture was swallowed up by the onrushing wall of plasma and fire, but its death was insignificant in the larger fireball.

The _Agen's Light_ rocketed out of the opening with the flames licking her aft plates.

They charged through the upper atmosphere of Earth 5 at top speed. Brakatak watched as the facility's cloud cars tried uselessly to react to their sudden exit. A thick plume of smoke and fire erupted from the tunnel but the cloud city held together.

"We're clear!" Brakatak yelled.

The comlink was filled with laughter and cheering. Brakatak could hear the other beings in the hold below cheering as well.

"Where to now, Bull?" Rana asked.

Brakatak felt honored at her inclusion of the Gran term of respect. Their first pirate raid had been a success. But he had more plans still in store for the crew of the _Agen's Light._

"Put in a course for Culter City. Take us home."

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**Just a change of disclaimer. I don't own Star Wars, and while many of my characters may be OC, Cody and Ashla Ti along with their universe are owned by Mickey Mouse. I'm just grateful they allow me to play in their Magic Kingdom**


	53. Jason 4

**Southbound lanes, Tarkin Express Airway, heading into Culter City**

Jason Bogan's mind was racing a mile a minute, which was actually a lot slower than the convertible flying car he found himself a passenger in tonight. The cool night air of Mars stung his face as Keatly expertly maneuvered the airspeeder through airway traffic, her long, multi-colored hair flapped in the wind behind her like an old-time aviator's scarf. He couldn't believe she wasn't freezing in the strange, golden bikini outfit she wore.

With what he hoped was practiced precision she weaved the so-called airspeeder through a pair of slow-moving heavy transports. Jason associated the fat, round craft with flying semi-trucks, which would have been an air-traffic controller's nightmare back home on Earth.

Jason was riding shotgun. Frip and Ashla rode in the back seat. They had all insisted that he ride in front for his first trip into the capital of the 1st Martian Empire.

Ashla put her hand on his shoulder and her gentle touch was enough to instantly relieve his anxiety over the Firrerreo's crazy driving skills. "It will be alright, Jason. Keatly's a great driver."

"If you say so." Jason turned and smiled at the red girl in the back seat. She had a way of putting him at ease that had nothing to do with this mysterious Force she could presumably control.

He was still trying to wrap his mind around what she was. Her species was a Togruta and she was part of some sort of magical religious sect that he was still trying to come to terms with, but she seemed so much more to him and the rest of Brakatak's crew. He wondered if he meant anything to her as well.

In the midst of his deep thoughts about her, the beautiful red alien girl caught him looking in her direction. He didn't want to seem impolite and immediately decided to pretend that he had been searching for Brakatak's airspeeder all along.

With flaming cheeks Jason scannedthe airways for the other flying car in their small convoy. He spotted a green airspeeder slightly behind them and to their left. The three-eyed Gran rested his arm on the door of the front passenger seat. Ashlei, Erw, and Raf were crammed into the back seat. Rana drove.

Rana was almost the typical alien he had been raised to believe inhabited the universe, having seen hundreds of sci-fi movies and growing up on the Star Trek TV series. Except that she was blue-green she had the appearance of the mysterious greys that abducted people while they slept or drove alone on rural roads at night. Even though she was alien through and through she still reminded him of Earth.

Jason sighed as thoughts of home surfaced in his mind. He had no idea what had happened to his old neighborhood on Earth, but he knew Boston had been a first strike target months ago in what the Imperials had dubbed the Empire-Earth war. The last time he had heard from his folks they had told them they had left Massachusetts for an uncle's place in Wisconsin. And then the Imperials had seized Honolulu and he had been taken captive.

He thought of the two friends who had gone with him to the Aloha state. Rick, who had been killed on the blood-soaked beach at Waikiki, and Eddie, who had been rejected as a slave by the Empire due to his poor health and supposedly returned to the Earth. What he would give to have the both of them here to see this now.

He could only imagine what their faces would have looked like when they first caught sight of the sprawling metropolis of Culter City shining among the Martian hills. The city was centered along a wide river that ran through a wide valley. Hundred story tall, red skyscrapers, or cloudcutters in the local parlance, stretched into the sky but even those were dwarfed by the massive tower that stood in the middle of the city. Jason wondered if its upper floors were in low orbit.

Searchlights and holographic billboards lit up the airway as they sped through the outer ring of soaring skyscrapers. Jason wrested his gaze from the city and turned it to the drivers of other flying cars. He spotted a new type of alien in almost every vehicle but it didn't surprise him. Brakatak had told him that there was almost fourteen thousand different species in _Tarkin's Fist_.

The crew had told him as they were getting ready that evening that the city had a population of almost fourteen million beings. That made it bigger than anything back in the North American Union, including Mexico City and New York city. On top of that it looked like somebody had smashed Las Vegas, Paris, Tokyo and Rio de Janeiro all together in the same space.

Below him he saw roads clogged with vehicles. He reminded himself that they were called roadways and landspeeders here. He had a whole list of jargon that he was trying to remember. The crew had been filling his brain with an entirely new vocabulary since they had rescued him. He understood that it would only take one slip of the tongue for the Empire to land on him like the abducting aliens they most certainly were. He wondered if there was anything worse than Concentration Camp 1138 on Mars.

Not that he was the only person from Earth in Culter City. The eight missionaries the crew had freed, led by Father George, had vanished into the capitol. The crew had given them several changes of clothes, hastily spliced identity cards and a few hundred Imperial credits. Father George had told them that it was too much but Brakatak wouldn't hear of taking the money back.

Before they left Father George had quietly told Jason that they were on a mission from God. Jason wondered if that meant they were going to do whatever it took to free the slaves in the camps or something else that would surely get them killed. Whatever it was, Jason wished them well.

After the missionaries left the rest of the crew placed bets that Father George and his people would be recaptured in one of their five day weeks. Jason thought the rest of the crew underestimated the resourcefulness of a fugitive earthling. They were intercepting Earth's TV signals up here, hadn't they ever watched Cops.

The airspeeder jumped when it hit a small patch of turbulence. Jason's arm twinged a bit as they moved into mid-town traffic. The ache was a painful reminder of the dangers of piracy and the tenacity of the pig people. No, not pig people, he thought, they're called Ugnaughts. He silently congratulated himself for remembering the correct name.

His arm was wrapped in bandages soaked with what he could only call a miracle drug: bacta. When he had changed his bandages back at the homestead before they headed out there was already a visible change in his wound's condition. Many of the flash burns around the edges had disappeared and the wound had largely scarred over. The initial pain had greatly subsided as well, thanks to some kind of spice Ashlei had given him. At first he had believed she was trying to force him to ingest some kind of alien food seasoning but it had turned out that the Imperials called all of their drugs 'spice' like they were living in one of Frank Herbert's novels.

Ashlei had told him that he should be completely healed up within a week if he kept the bacta bandages on. He wished he could get back to Earth and sell it as a miracle elixir. He'd be a millionaire within a month.

He wondered if getting blasted by a ray gun was worth their haul from the pirate raid. According to Brakatak the chest of glitterstim spice they had taken was going to make them a fortune because it could only be manufactured with the aide of some kind of spider they had left back in their home galaxy. Without the spider the value of that particular spice had gone through the roof, though personally Jason couldn't see why anyone would take a drug that came out of a spider's rear end. The rest of the crew had assured him the spice haul was cause enough to celebrate tonight.

They dove from their skylane to one much lower, where Keatly neatly squeezed their airspeeder between two other vehicles in the downtown bound traffic.

Jason looked down as they crossed over the Yos River. The river and the sprawling park along its banks split the metropolis in two. The city center itself was lit up like the Vegas strip. Lights and holographic pictures came from every direction as flying billboards soared between towering edifices. Jason's eyes and head swiveled this way and then that in a hopeless effort to take it all in. Frip laughed at him from the back seat.

Strange alien faces emerged from electronic billboards shilling whatever product they represented. All of the words were written in a language the crew called Aurabesh and Jason's shoulders slumped when he realized he'd have to learn to read and write all over again if he was to blend in on Mars. It was daunting just how much he felt he surely must stick out from the crowd.

The airspeeder flashed across a wide open space. "Tarkin's Square. It's named after the Grand Moff who sent us into the maw." Keatly sounded like a tour guide.

"It's huge. It puts Time Square to shame back home." Jason replied. The square was the size of several football stadiums back on Earth. The buildings that edged it displayed gargantuan 3D screens that that each showed a different holographic image of dozens of alien-looking products. The only break in the screens came in the airway lanes that allowed traffic to enter and exit the square. Jason's eyes were drawn to one of the screens that was showing the image of a young girl.

"Hey, isn't that your guy's Chief Ambassador? I thought she was on Earth."

"She was. Storm Commandos rescued her from some type of earthian torture. And she's not an ambassador anymore. You're looking at Princess Phasma, the heir to the Empire." Keatly said as she sped by the towering image of the girl's face.

Jason didn't like the sound of that. If this Princess had been mistreated at the hands of his nation then the Emperor would be less likely to go easy on the North American Union. He feared what was going on back on Earth without him and wished there was some way he could help.

A few minutes later Keatly pulled out of traffic and turned their airspeeder towards a well-lit skyscraper covered in the moving images of hundreds of advertisements. Jason's eyes hurt to look at the place. Keatly slowed the flying car down and settled it neatly between two parked vehicles on the promenade that lined the building. The sidewalks were crowded with hundreds of different alien species moving along the raised pathway.

Rana parked the other airspeeder in a spot several vehicle lengths ahead of them. Ashla leaned forward and whispered in Jason's ear. "Welcome to the Long Jump Casino."

"Best place to have a good time on all of Mars." Keatly said as she powered down the airspeeder. Frip jumped up and crawled over the rear trunk of the airspeeder to the sidewalk just as Jason was opening his door.

Jason stood up and straightened out his long, white, baggy-sleeved shirt. Brakatak had called it a tunic and said that they were very common in the Empire. Judging by the dress of the aliens on the sidewalk he noted that the big Gran hadn't been pulling his leg. He wore a bulky, brown belt that reminded him of Batman's utility belt with all of its pouches and pockets. The crew had given him a pair of beige pants that were tied snugly around his waist with leather laces. His white boots were shin length and held up by several long white straps.

Evidently the Empire had never heard of zippers or Velcro, and buttons were a rarity. Instead the alien society seemed to prefer belts and laces to hold everything in place. Some of the outfits he'd worn required small magnetic clasps, especially if they included body armor.

The aliens that passed by were dressed in a variety of costumes. Unlike a major metropolitan street in the North American Union, not a single person was wearing denim. There weren't any T-shirts or lettering or pictures on anything the Imperials wore. The whole scene looked like something out of the dark-ages, except the bodies that wore those clothes were completely alien.

He turned and offered to help Ashla get out of the back seat. The Togruta took his hand with a slight hesitation. She had told him that earthlings didn't feel quite right in this mysterious Force power of hers and now every time she mentioned it he would think of Newton's 2nd Law: F=ma, which just made him think of his physics and calculus classes back at MIT. He didn't know what to make of her powers yet but he knew they went well beyond mathematics.

She stood up and smoothed out her own outfit, a pair of brown leather pants and a small top that showed a generous amount of her red and white skin. It seemed women in the Empire rarely carried purses, preferring pouches on their belts or having one of their personal robots carry their stuff for them and instead of loose fitting tunics like most of the males Jason had seen, the girls all wore form-fitting attire. As a result, Jason could barely keep his eyes off of Ashla. He hoped he wasn't being too obvious. He wasn't sure what Ashla's Force could detect.

Keatly grabbed his arm and steered him through the crowd towards the other airspeeder. Brakatak slapped him on the back in greeting. "Kid, I don't know what you guys have for fun on that backrocket world of yours, but you've never lived until you've partied at the Long Jump."

The group ambled through the crowd towards the main entrance. Near the entrance life-sized, holographic performers juggled several objects that flashed through the revelers. Jason instinctively ducked as the blue hologram of a knife flew by his head. The rest of the crew laughed at his surprise.

Jason shrugged at their good-natured laughter and then stopped in his tracks. At the entrance stood at least a dozen of the robot-soldiers that had captured him in Hawaii several months ago, only these ones wore red armor instead of white. A pair of them stood to one side, with their helmets off, talking to each other, which reminded Jason that they weren't robots or droids like he had initially feared when they had seized him on Waikiki. And unlike the ones on Earth these soldiers didn't look like twins. The one thing they did look like was cops.

"Culter City Guard." Keatly whispered. "It appears they're checking identicards tonight."

Sure enough, several people entering the casino were stopped by the Guardsmen and asked for their identification. Jason swallowed hard and tried to push his rising anxiety back down. Keatly had sliced him a brand new identicard for a Corellian with his name, a botanist employed by some company named CoruFresh. Jason hoped the Guard didn't ask him any questions about fruits or vegetables.

"Your card will work. Try not to look so nervous." Keatly warned as they got closer to the checkpoint.

Jason waited behind a pair of hammerheaded aliens who were being screened ahead of him. Nervous perspiration beaded up on his forehead as he felt a tiny rivulet of sweat run down his face. They're going to know I'm from Earth and send me right back to that camp, he told himself. Why am I risking my life for a night out on the town?

As soon as the question formed in his mind the answer took him by the hand. He looked to his side to see Ashla's reassuring smile. She squeezed his hand and suddenly he was nervous for an entirely different reason.

"Identicard, citizen." The Guard at the door asked him in an electrically-amplified voice. Jason pulled out his card and handed it to the man, his pulse beating a mile a minute. The Guard swiped it through a small device that blinked blue after a second. Jason hoped that meant it was good.

The Guardsman handed Jason back his card and waved him forward without another word. He did the same for Ashla a moment later and Jason let out a sigh of relief. He could pass for an Imperial after all.

"Why are you meatcans scanning tonight? You weren't here last time we came here." Brakatak asked the Guard.

"Routine security drill, citizen. Been a lot of them lately." The red stormtrooper, Jason was happy he finally remembered their name, sounded bored with the world when he answered. "Move along." he waved Brakatak forward and scanned Frip next.

Soon all of them were in the lobby of the huge casino. Jason was in awe. A cacophony of sound crashed down upon him. Cheers and boos rose up from the sea of gaming tables that were laid out across the main floor. Bells and whistles sang out from what Jason guessed were banks of the Imperial-version of slot machines. Booming music from two nightclubs situated on opposite sides of the gaming area competed for dominance. There were two more levels of games situated on circular floors above them. A transparent elevator in the back of the casino carried people between the floors.

Big-screen 3D televisions lined the upper walls, carrying images of dozens of strange sporting events and Imperial shows. On one of them he recognized a LA Dodgers game from Earth. It must have been taped because last he had heard LA was in Imperial hands these days. The biggest screen was showing a game that looked similar to soccer but the aliens who were playing were slamming into each other like they were in the midst of a hockey or rugby game. He made a note to ask Frip about it later.

"T'bac? Cigarra?" a cute blue girl asked him. She was guiding a large levitating tray, filled with what appeared to be cigarettes and pipes, secured to her waist. He looked closely and noticed her skin was covered in tiny scales.

"Um, no thanks I don't smoke. Those things will kill you." He said. The alien girl gave him a strange look and continued her way through the crowded casino. He kicked himself for saying the wrong thing.

"Alright everyone, I'll be at the Bannak tables. Let's try to meet up here again around one o'clock." Brakatak said. Even though no one ever said Brakatak was the crew's official captain they all readily took their unofficial orders from the Gran. Jason didn't complain. Without Brakatak in the camp with him he would have been a dead man.

The group quickly split up. Jason was disappointed when Ashla was dragged off by the two Firrerreos towards one of the booming dance clubs. Dancing in public terrified him almost as much as being caught by the Culter City Guard.

Ashla looked back over her shoulder and smiled at him. "Have fun."

"You too. See you later." He waved.

He turned to see where Brakatak was going but the Gran had already vanished into the crowd on the gaming floor, Frip and Rana in tow. Before he knew it he was left alone with the two Utais, Erw and Raf. They squeaked with excitement, grabbed him by the elbows and tugged him towards one end of the casino.

As they passed around the edges of the gaming floor he noticed dozens of aliens and Imperials cheering something that was going on in the center of the room beneath their feet. People were waving credits in the air as beings he assumed were bookies took bets on something Jason couldn't quite see. He slowed his pace to get a better look.

Erw noticed his confusion and explained, "Fight, fight!" while pointing at the transparent floor.

The crowd parted for a second, which was long enough for Jason to catch a glimpse of two aliens, a werewolf and a shark-man, battling each other in an arena beneath the spectators. They were dressed in shorts like the kind boxers wore and were armed with large metal staves and clubs like some kind of Roman gladiator. A short, ugly alien with wings on its back fluttered about the arena as a sort of referee. Jason briefly wondered if the two combatants were fighting to the death. He had no idea whether or not the Empire allowed that sort of thing but after the camps he didn't think they put a high value on life of any sort.

Raf tugged his arm again and led Jason away from the subterranean ultimate fighting match. The pair of Utais pressed their way towards the longest bar Jason had ever seen. Several bartenders were stationed behind it, moving quickly to service the mass of patrons and cocktail waitresses who needed drinks. Erw and Raf pushed forward and secured three bar stools in front of a gorgeous green girl with tails coming out of her head. Jason struggled for a moment before he remembered her species' name, Twi'lek.

"What can I get you boys?" The Twi'lek purred. The thin straps of leather she wore strategically placed across her body left little to Jason's imagination.

"Ebla." Raf demanded.

"Ebla." Erw echoed, throwing credits down on the bar for the three of them.

"I guess I'll have an Ebla as well." Jason said, not sure what he had just ordered. He was relieved when the green goddess popped the top off of three beer bottles and slid them across the bar.

Erw and Raf immediately downed the drinks and asked for another. Jason timidly took a sip and was relieved to find that it tasted like beer. Back on Earth he had never been much of a drinker, preferring to focus on his studies at MIT rather than going out and partying, but he wasn't a teetotaler either. This Ebla beer tasted great and familiar like something his father and uncles used to drink on football weekends back home maybe something German. He took a bigger pull and felt the alcohol curse through his veins like a bomb.

"Careful, friend. That stuff has quite the kick for humans and near-humans." The Twi'lek warned. He took a good look at her head appendages. They reminded him of Ashla's for a moment, though they weren't as long and the Twi'lek wore them behind her head instead of over her shoulders like Ashla did. She also didn't have the tall, horn-like head appendages that Ashla sported. If he had to make a choice he thought he preferred the Jedi's to the bartender's. He wasn't about to tell the sexy bartender that though.

In spite of her warning she gave him a second Ebla when he finished his first a few minutes later. "Thanks, you have beautiful tentacles by the way."

Her hand moved faster than his mind could follow as it slapped him across the face. His left cheek stung him into sobriety as he almost fell off his bar stool. "They're not tentacles. They're my lekku, nerf-herder!" She turned and walked away in a huff.

Erw and Raf were laughing uncontrollably and Raf abruptly fell off his own bar stool. He kept on laughing from his position on the floor.

I've got so much to learn about the Empire and women, Jason told himself.

The Twi'lek was replaced by another alien that Erw identified as a Lepi and Raf insisted was the most "mesh'la cheeka" he had ever seen. Jason got the impression that he meant that as a compliment for the female alien but he thought she looked like nothing more than a life-sized Easter Bunny that served drinks.

After another round with the Utais Jason was feeling a more basic need that came hand and hand with drinking, he waved the rabbit-girl over, "Excuse me, Miss. Where are the restro . . . um, refreshers in this place?"

"Other side of the Sabacc tables, Lorda."

Thankfully she pointed in the proper direction because he didn't know if he'd be able to tell Sabacc apart from any other of the dozens of games being played on the gaming floor.

"Be right back, guys." He told the Utais. Erw squeaked an acknowledgment but Raf was fully enthralled with the Bunny girl.

Jason found the refreshers easily enough but when he arrived at the dual doors he was stunned to find that the names of the genders above the rooms was written in six different languages and none of them came close to anything he was familiar with. The first few aliens that came out of the refreshers were androgynous enough that he thought he'd give himself kidney damage before he figured out a solution.

Finally a human girl with hair swept up above her head like a shooting star, and wearing a shimmery, see-through silky outfit that left little doubt as to her sex entered one of the doors. Jason let out a sigh of relief and charged through the opposing door.

A few moments later a much relieved Jason Bogan reentered the gaming floor and made his way back to the bar. When he reached the spot where he had left the Utais he found that Brakatak had joined them. The Gran had ordered four orders of a drink he called a 'Bantha Blaster' and had a shot ligned up for each of them. He handed one of the pink and green drinks to Jason. It fizzled and popped in its glass like pop rocks in a glass of Coca-Cola.

Brakatak held up his drink, "To the _Agen's Light_."

Erw and Raf clinked their glasses with Brakatak. Jason smiled and joined in and downed half the sugary fruit drink in several gulps. The crew might be the only thing he had left in the Universe. They were much more than fellow crewmen, they were starting to feel like family.

"Jason, I need you to come with me. There's some being that I'd like you to meet." Brakatak said.

"Sure thing Bull. Some pretty piffer?" Jason remembered his slang.

Brakatak chuckled, "Not quite, kid. I need you to back me up. Can you look tough?"

"Um, I can try." Jason had spent a lifetime with his nose firmly in a math book of one sort or another before being accepted to MIT engineering school, and as such he'd had his fair share of bullying. He tried to recall how the bullies had intimidated him when he was a kid.

"Good, I know you'll do astral." Brakatak said as he led Jason across the gaming floor and towards one of the grand staircases that led to the second level of high-roller games. "Someone just wants to have a word with us about our little adventure out in the Phasma Belt."

Jason's step faltered. Who knew they were pirating out in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter besides the crew of the _Agen's Light_? The only ones he could think of were the earthling missionaries they had freed and the pig-like beings they had captured. He wondered if they were walking into some kind of trap.

Ahead of them was a series of enclosed booths that marked some sort of VIP section. A human security officer moved a velvet rope out of their way when he saw Brakatak approach. They walked into the darkened section where strange energy shields protected patrons of the casino from prying eyes. Outside one of the booths ahead of them Rana hit a hidden switch on the wall and the shield across the booth powered down. Jason saw Frip sitting across from three short beings who smelled of inebriation and ignorance; Ugnaughts.

The short, pig-like aliens only came up to Jason's waist but they did their best to look intimidating by puffing out their chests and scowling. Jason's bandaged arm twinged as he remembered being shot by one of their species during the crew's pirate raid.

The ugliest Ugnaught sat in the center of the booth. Dressed in a leather apron that seemed to be the official uniform of the pig-people, this one had also donned a strange, towering headdress covered in odd little nuts and bolts.

"Jason, this is King Wozz, leader of the Botrut Tribe from Gentes. They're the ones who run the tibanna mine on Earth 5." Brakatak said.

"Try to look tough." Rana whispered in his ear. "And don't get thrown by all the Huttese, just try to look like you've heard it all before."

Jason had a bad feeling about this. The Ugnaughts couldn't be happy with them after the pirate raid left a gaping hole in their floating city. In an attempt to be civil Jason offered his hand but King Wozz just snorted in response. Feeling foolish, Jason put his hand back to his side and slipped into a seat beside Brakatak. Frip, Rana and the two remaining Ugnaughts sat down in the booth along with him.

Rana reactivated the shield and the noise of the casino was immediately muffled to a barely audible hum. The three Ugnaughts glared at them.

"Bo shuda. You are the pirate Brakatak are you not?" King Wozz accused the big Gran.

"Of course I am. I told that karking guard on board your freighter how to find me. I've got no reason to hide from a kung like you." Brakatak retorted.

"Chuba doompa, dopa-maskey kung why shouldn't I blast you right now?" King Wozz slobbered when he talked. Jason paid more attention to that than following the odd Huttese turns of phrase the Ugnaughts and Brakatak switched between.

"Dopa mee gusha, peedunkey and besides I've got something you want. That's why. Everyone knows the D'emperiolo Army and the Navy are your only legal customers and the Emperor is undercutting your profits something fierce. Yet, it seems that every other sleemo in Culter City has a full clip of tibanna in their hold-out blasters." Brakatak explained.

"So what?"

"So what. Well it looks like you're selling tibanna on the shadow market and taking glitterstim as a payment. Since there aren't any energy spiders within a million parsecs the price the glit-biters are willing to pay for their fix is going through the roof. I'm pretty sure it's not the military that's making its payments in spice. If I had to guess I'd say you're mixed up with Black Sun."

"No Black Sun. We deal with . . . um smugglers who stash spice through the 'big jump'. They're supposed to provide security for all our shipments."

"Let me guess. Guys have a bunch of Vulture droids." Rana said.

"Fierfek yes, and now they've vanished. Took their tibanna and spice and ran. Wakamancha spacer slimos. And the four of you blew a hole in our city. Got D'emperiolo attention too."

"The Empire's not going to like having pirates in their backyard but they're especially going to hate someone undercutting their tibanna trade. It looks like you're going to need someone with a talent for smuggling." Brakatak offered.

"Nagoola! You pirate us and then you want to work with us?"

"It's the nature of the business. Nothing personal. But there's at least a half dozen pirate crews forming up around Culter City. All of them growing bored with waiting for the Empire to get off its _shebs_ and start selling hypermatter so they can all go freelance and jump out of the system." Brakatak said.

"Bored pirate scum are going to start looking around for fat targets to hit. Like fat, little Ugnaught targets." Rana warned.

"If we go into business with you, you must obey contract." King Mozz said. Jason thought the Ugnaught chieftain sounded unsure. It was time for Brakatak to seize the moment but the Gran hung back. Maybe it was the alien drinks talking, but Jason was suddenly positive he should take over negotiations. It's what Captain Kirk would do.

Jason took a big swig of the remainder of his Bantha Blaster. "Brakatak is making you a deal you can't refuse." Jason said, trying to channel every gangster movie he had seen as a teenager. "You can take it or watch your shipments vanish right before your eyes. Trust me when I tell you we've got a way to tell whenever one of you cock-a-roaches is sneaking through the asteroid belt."

Brakatak and Frip looked at him in shock. Jason reached across to the Gran's tunic pocket, pulled out a bag and tossed it on the table between them. There was a loud thud as it impacted. As it came to a rest before King Wozz a Gallinorean Rainbow gem spilled out. One of the Ugnaughts let out a small whistle. King Wozz's eyes went wide.

"A gesture of good faith. We keep the spice and whatever else we seized from your ship and you can have that bauble back." Jason looked to Brakatak, who gave him a knowing wink with his center eye. Jason had figured out the protection racket game the Gran was playing. "In return we smuggle all of your civilian payments to your base on Jupi . . . I mean Earth 5, for a small fee of shall we say . . ." he looked at the rest of the crew for guidance.

"Percent five of your tibanna profits annually." Frip yelled.

King Wozz looked like he was choking on his slobber for an instant. "Kwanna percent is doma toma robbery. My tribe would go hungry paying that much. I suggest dopa percent of annual profits."

"Four and we can guarantee that we can avoid all entanglements with other pirates." Brakatak countered. "No dumping our shipments at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser, either."

Jason knew that as long as they had Ashla in the crew no one was ever going to detect them but he felt bad about using Ashla that way.

"Duba, we can go no higher without attracting the Emperor's attention. And you are responsible for smuggling all 'unofficial' tibanna shipments to our buyers in Culter City." King Wozz offered. Jason got the impression that he wasn't going to budge any more than that. He made a note to ask Brakatak how much 'duba' was later.

"Deal." Brakatak said and slid a hand across the table. This time King Wozz shook it.

"We'll be in touch. Goodde da lodia." The three Ugnaughts deactivated the shield, left the booth, and vanished back into the casino.

Brakatak slapped Jason on the back. "That was some astral stuff, kid. I feel just like Jabba the Hutt. How'd you come up with that stuff anyways?"

"Oh, I just channeled a little Captain Kirk. I just tried to figure out what he would have done in that situation." Jason said meekly. By the confused look on their faces he could tell they had no idea who Captain Kirk was. If only he had smuggled some old Blue Rays of Star Trek when he had been taken to Mars he told himself.

"Fierfek! Whatever you were doing sure worked. And we even got to keep the glitterstim. I was sure they'd want the spice back. I wasn't kidding when I said that stuff's roadway value has hyperjumped right out of the sector. We could buy another starship with what we'll make from selling it." Brakatak laughed.

For a second Jason imagined using a second ship to expand their little pirating venture to another system or owning a space ship of his own. He suddenly felt guilty that he didn't automatically think of using one to return to Earth. After making new friends with the crew of the _Agen's Light_ he wondered if he really had anything back on Earth that was worth returning for.

He thought of Ashla. The beautiful red alien certainly gave him a reason to stay. He tried to figure out if he meant anything to the strange girl with even stranger powers and with his new liquid courage flowing through him he decided it was time to find out. He wondered what she was doing and hoped that she wasn't still in a dance club. Few things scared him more than having to show off his moves to a girl he liked.

"The _Light_ could use an upgrade on her hyperspace engines, especially if we're going to be smuggling full time now." Rana's suggestion brought Jason's attention back to the subject at hand.

"Especially since no telling there is of what Imperials will find in these new Virgo and Epsilon systems they heading for?" Frip added. "Hunting pirates here they may be. Good to have quick escape it is."

Jason couldn't believe that he conceivably had a chance to one day visit those distant stars as well. The most he had ever hoped for was a visit to the Moon's Eagle Base before the Empire arrived in his solar system.

"Oh, I've got a whole list of things we can buy and officials we can bribe. It's going to be fun setting up our own little operation here in Culter City." Brakatak said with a relish. "Stick with me you pirate scum and I'll make you all rich beings." They all laughed.

Jason realized that if he was to be stranded on Mars that being a rich smuggler might not be a bad way to go. He excused himself when the other three started discussing technical matters regarding upgrades to the _Agen's Light_. Though fascinating to the former math major he was sometimes out of his league compared to even the most basic engineering knowledge his new friends possessed. Besides, tonight he was here to have fun not bog himself down in the humdrum business of starship maintenance. When else would he have a chance to get lost amongst thousands of alien species in a space casino that catered to every desire?

He walked back to the gaming floor. He walked over the formally transparent floor where the fight had taken place and a team of custodians was cleaning the ring. The floor must become opaque between matches and spectators had then simply returned to the gaming tables. Jason reached in his pouch and felt the high denomination credit chips that Brakatak had given him and thought about trying his luck at one of the games. He stood behind several groups of gamblers and watched them play. Though wagering was somehow involved it was all he understood about the alien table and card games.

At a nearby table a pretty girl suddenly leaped to her feet, knocking over her stool in the process. Several aliens shouted angrily from the game. The girl spun around in his direction and Jason noticed her long, pointy ears.

"Hey, are you a Vulcan?" Jason unthinkingly blurted out without noticing that the girl was charging straight for him.

"Hey, you! Stop that Selphi scum! She's got a skifter." A four-armed, alien card dealer yelled at him from the table. Jason reacted much too slow as the girl dipped her shoulder and rammed him square in the gut. Jason felt the air rush from his lungs as he violently fell over backwards into another table of card players.

The girl sprinted for the exits with several casino security agents chasing after her. Jason didn't see if she got away as an angry walrus-alien pushed him off of the table. He recognized several swears and curses that the crew of the _Agen's Light_ threw around and meekly apologized as he backed away from the irritated aliens who were already turning back to their games.

He humbly moved through the crowd of aliens circling the gaming floor and stood along one wall of the establishment out of the flow of traffic. Yells went up when the floor over the underground arena changed back to transparent glass as another fight began.

Thumping music emanated from a nearby dance club. Jason ignored it at first but then something in his mind clicked.

"No way." He said to himself. He knew this song. It was one his mother used to listen to all the time when he was a kid. He moved towards the entrance of the club, his ears perking up at the music, sure he had to be mistaken.

At the entrance to the club a hulking alien who looked like a cross between a killer whale and a wrestler glared at him but didn't stop him from entering. Above the entrance hung a holographic marque with strange alien letters announcing the club's name; The Green Dianoga. Jason was only starting to translate some of the symbols and deciphered that the band inside was something called the 'Sol Covers'.

Inside the darkened club scores of aliens and humans swirled and danced through a barrage of colored lights as deafening music filled the room. Anti-gravity lifts propelled some of the dancers high into the air, while scantily-clad females of various species swung from cloth ropes from the ceiling.

In the center of the main stage a blue elephant-man played some kind of keyboard and a trio of bald, black-eyed aliens blew into strange wind instruments while a wrinkled, horned alien beat on a set of hanging drums. A quartet of females sang backup to what Jason guessed was some kind of human-frog hybrid. The main singer had a set of lips on a long protruding snout and belted out her own version of a Lady Gaga classic.

"S-S-S-Sabacc Face. Mum mum mum mah. . . I won't tell you that I love you. Kiss or hug you. Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin. I'm not lying I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunnin" The singer belted out.

"Holy . . ." Jason was too stunned to actually feel his jaw drop at the strange sight.

The song ended with a furious applause from the crowd. The singer took a bow and made way for another odd, furry singer dressed up as if he was in one of Elvis Presley's rhinestone jumpsuits. Sure enough the new vocalist started with, "Bright light city gonna set my soul. Gonna set my soul on fire."

"Viva, Las Vegas?" Jason muttered in disbelief.

"You know this song then?" Someone asked. The stranded earthling spun around to be greeted by the sight of the stunningly beautiful Ashla Ti.

"Um, why, um, it's from Earth. It's a golden oldie." Jason stammered.

"A golden oldie?" Ashla's eyes narrowed at the strange phrase.

"It's a really old song. I don't think my grandparents even listened to that one." Jason said.

"It's not old to us. We've been soaking in primitive Earth hyperwaves since our arrival almost three years ago. As you can see Earth music is quite popular." She waved her crimson arm towards the energetic dancers. Jason wondered if any of them even knew what Las Vegas was.

"It's an ok, um, I mean wizard song, I guess. I prefer alternative myself."

"I like a good, thumping glimmik or heavy isotope tune to get my blood pumping. You earthlings have such funny names for music; hip-hop, rock and roll." She smiled. Jason wondered if she had been drinking some of the 'Bantha Blasters' that had left him tipsy.

"How did you know I was in here?' Jason asked.

"Of all the beings in the Long Jump I always know where you are."

"Is your Force still repulsing you from me?"

"You're growing on me. When I first entered the prisoner camp with the stifling masses of Earth refugees it was overwhelming and I passed out."

"I remember. That's how we first met." He smiled, which grew bigger when she returned it.

"Yes, and I almost cut your head off for being a Sith." she giggled. Jason didn't quite find that as funny as she did.

"Do you get lonely being the only Jedi on Mars?"

"I won't be for long. Master Kolar told me that more will come to me soon." Ashla said assuredly and turning to watch the dancers as if her remark was obvious to anyone.

"More Jedi? I thought you guys were being hunted by the Empire."

"We are. Though this new Empire doesn't seem as adamant about searching for us as the last."

"So there will be other knights? Some of them would probably be guys, right?" Jason felt a pang of jealousy. What shot did he have with this girl who was clearly out of his league? Surely she would want a boyfriend who was a Jedi like her.

"I can sense what you're feeling, you know? Especially since you are an earthling. You guys are such an easy read. You should know I was taught to forsake all attachments as a possible path to the Dark Side." Ashla timidly put her hand on his arm. She probably meant it to be a friendly reassurance but Jason felt electricity pass between them at her touch.

"Seriously? No boyfriends? No families? No love?" Jason had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept.

"Seriously. That is what was taught at the Jedi Temple where I was raised."

"And do you still believe that?"

"I don't know. I have been on the run for so long. I have come to rely on groups of slaves and other refugees from Imperial law that I did form a number of close attachments. During the first years I was close to another Jedi. A human named Liam. You two actually look quite a bit alike now that I think of it." Ashla's voice got softer and Jason could barely hear her over the music.

"What happened to him?" Jason asked.

"He died. During a robbery that ended with my enslavement and his bleeding out on the floor of a Muunilinst bank. That was five years before the 'big jump'. Five years of being alone." Ashla's eyes gave a slight hint of watering up. Whoever this Liam guy had been, he and Ashla had been quite close.

"Five years before you met Brakatak?"

"Yes, the big guy certainly gave me a sense of belonging. A sense of home." Ashla smiled as if she was realizing something for the first time.

"A sense of attachment? A family of sorts?" Jason couldn't help hoping this small realization would lead to something more.

Ashla frowned. "Yes. I guess you're right. They are my friends and my family. You are now part of that as well, Jason Bogan."

Jason's chest swelled with hope as he sucked in his breath.

"But therein lies the danger. I would do anything to protect my pack, even if it entails choosing the Dark Side to do so." Ashla's head slumped in shame.

"There you go being all melodramatic. Everything to you guys is all Light Side this and Dark Side that with you Jedi. On Earth nothing is ever so clear cut good or evil. And why is this Force of yours like two sides of the same coin anyways? I don't think you can flip back and forth just because you care about someone else enough that you don't want to see them get hurt. If that were the case then my Mom was the evilest woman to ever walk the Earth."

Ashla's face became a study in how shock can warp an alien's facial features. Jason suddenly realized he had thrown everything she believed straight back in her face. Well good, he thought. He was getting tired of the Buddhist monk routine from her all the time.

"And even if there is a thing as complete goodness, wouldn't that something be love? Why do the Jedi deny themselves the ultimate application of good? A thing that every earthling, and from what I've seen here tonight, every alien species freely participates in. Wouldn't love make you a better Jedi in the eyes of the Light Side?" Jason hoped he hadn't offended her enough to make her want to leave but now that he was one a roll he couldn't make himself shut up.

Then instead of running, Ashla suddenly grabbed his hand and turned towards the dance floor, yanking him behind her. As they plunged through the crowd Jason caught a glimpse of the two Firrerreo girls, Ashlei and Keatly, in the center of a group of four men who looked like they could have passed for humans except for the fact that each of them was a bright shade of pink. The girls' multi-colored strands of waist length hair swirled around them. Keatley waved to Jason as she danced circles around her would-be dance partners. Jason nervously waved back as he was pulled through the mob.

His nerves were on edge as they reached the center of the dance floor. The music transitioned into a version of Prince's "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World", though the man-lobster alien who was singing changed the word 'world' into 'sector' for some reason.

When they reached the center of the dance floor Ashla swung around to face him, a look of determination in her eyes that made his knees turn to jelly. He'd never met a girl who was so sure of herself and willing to take complete charge like this and it was as terrifying as it was exciting. "What are you doing?" He asked meekly.

"I'm going to learn to become a better Jedi." She said. The gorgeous red-skinned alien girl grabbed him by the front of his tunic and yanked him in close. "And you're going to be the one that helps me do that."

With that she kissed him full on the mouth. Jason's heart leaped in his chest. What would Captain Kirk do, he thought? And then he realized.

He kissed her back.

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Reviews are love


	54. Yos 4

**Royal Council Chamber, Tarkin Tower, Culter City, Mars**

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"Pirates!" Emperor Yos bellowed a second time.

First Lieutenant Murp from the SigInt station of Naval Intelligence started to read off a litany of a dozen attacks by at least three separate pirate gangs in the past two weeks.

Normally pirate activity would be below the notice of the Emperor but the threat had put a damper on plans for colony ships to start leaving the local Sol System. Two of the latest attacks were highly disconcerting. A crew of what was believed to be Rodians hit a supply freighter on its way to the new colony on Earth 2, while a second attack of unknown origin had damaged the tibanna processing station on Earth 5.

"We still don't have any indication as to what the Earth 5 pirates' target was. They retreated from the area before Imperial Navy vessels arrived to intercede." The naval officer reported.

"And where were the Star Destroyers tasked with defending Earth 5?" Yos asked in irritation.

"My Lord, the VISD _Charger_ is currently at the KDY orbital driveyard where they are provisioning their bunkers with the first load of hypermatter from the Mars Tower processing facility."

Yos bit the inside of his lip. He had personally issued the order for the _Charger_ to be the first vessel to receive hypermatter. He had worried about the _StarGate_ currently on its way to Epsilon Eridani and he wanted a quick reaction vessel if the exploratory scouts ran into any trouble beyond the local system. Moff Seco had protested that he needed every warship under his command for this 'Surge' of his that was aimed at ending hostilities on Earth. Against his better judgment he had pulled the _Victory-_class Star Destroyer from her station, and now pirate scum were reaping the benefits of his poor decision.

"During the attack the other vessel in the immediate area, the IntSD _Immobile_ was in orbit around Earth 5's largest moon. Her captain never received a request for assistance from the Ugnaughts in charge of the facility. By the time they realized anything was happening the facility was already damaged and the pirate scum had hauled jets back into the Phasma Belt."

Yos stood up and crossed the circular briefing room. He came to a stop at the wall of the balcony that ringed the top of the tallest structure in Culter City. He looked across the red-tinged capital city of his Empire. From this height he could imagine his problems as tiny as lizard-ants, but even he knew a colony of a million tiny lizard-ants could take down the largest full-grown being.

"The _Immobile_ is one of Kuat's 3rd Kuati Fleet is it not?" Yos thought aloud.

"Yes, My Lord." Murp answered. "The _Interdictor__-_class vessel has been on station around Earth 5 since the current hostilities commenced against the local system's inhabitants."

"I believe I made a mistake in trusting the Kuati with such an important task. Moff Kuat surely shows no interest in the performance of his own fleet. The governor prefers to concentrate his attention on scientific advancement rather than protecting the interests of the Empire." Yos said.

"He has given us thousands of advances since we arrived in the Milky Way. I don't think his efforts have been in vain, in fact I . . ."

Yos spun around and angrily stared the intelligence agent into silence. "Anything that slows the spread of our colonization efforts from this system goes against the desires of the Empire. We have enough hindrance in our true goal with this slave raid we're doing on Earth." Yos could tell the younger officer wanted to object but the irritation showing in Yos's features stilled his tongue. "Too many resources that could better be served elsewhere. Yes, I know we need the raw manpower those slaves are providing but even that has slowed down due to the Ebola scare."

"Sir, we have been assured by the Martian Medical Corps that the danger of another outbreak has subsided. No one has reported any symptoms inside of Camp 1138 for two weeks and workers are returning to the terraforming and agricultural work sites as we speak."

Yos thought about that. He couldn't deny that the massive slave army wasn't producing results. Foodstuffs and ore were flooding into the city from work sites around Mars. He hardly thought of the hundreds of thousands of Earthlings who had been literally worked to death at those labor sites, choking out their last breaths on red dust as they stared up at a greenish blue light in the night sky that they'd never return to again.

Sometimes he wished he had gone the Separatist route and built an army of labor droids instead. But the sheer cost of manufacturing droids was staggering. And where would he have found the labor force to build them in the first place? Earth had made everything so accessible with its primitive defenses and backrocket thinking. He had been in the Empire long enough to consider the thousand stormtroopers or so they had lost so far a small price to pay for results.

"Continue to scan for signs of Earth-borne disease amongst the prisoner population. The last thing we need is a plague. Are shipments from Operation _Piper_ still on hold?" Yos asked. He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes slowly with his right hand and wished it would be so easy to wipe away the stress from his life.

"Aye, Your Majesty. But the Ebola ban has been lifted and approved by all three Moffs and the Bureau of Operations. New shipments haven't renewed due to the 'Surge' attacks out of both Target Cities. Moff Seco stripped the _Piper_ units to only a single Legion. The rest are being used in the attacks."

"Yes, Admiral Bacara gave me an earful over the matter. He's furious that we're using his clone brothers as shock troops." Yos sighed. Before the war had begun he had given the clone admiral his assurance that his Legions of Clone War troopers wouldn't be thrown away as Palpatine had done after the old War had ended. He felt a twinge of guilt but forced himself to shake it off. What other choice did he have? This new war had gone on for much too long. It needed to end soon.

"Those clones have got to be in their fifties with their advanced aging. Feels like we're sending out my father or my grandfather to fight. No offense, My Lord." the Lieutenant caught himself.

Yos snorted. He was in his mid-sixties. Old-age by Earth's lower standards but comfortably late middle-aged by the Home Galaxy's measures. The one thing that surely made him feel ancient was raising a twelve year old daughter. At a time when most fathers were contemplating buying their youngling a new landspeeder or saving for academy tuition he was focusing on ways to expand the Empire he would one day bequeath to her.

All he did was for Phasma. Every day she looked more and more like her clone template, her mother, as he and Phasma referred to her in public whenever the matter arose. Phasma Yos certainly embodied the values that Padme had championed during the Clone War but she was also her father's daughter and a product of the Old Empire. She would make a strong leader one day, he told himself. Now his only goal was to leave her an Empire that was worthy of Padme. No, he checked his thoughts, worthy of Phasma.

"We need every man we can get to end this charade of a war. How many troopers does Bacara still have under his command for _Piper_ and _Stork__?"_ Yos asked. He once again contemplated wiping Earth out with a Base Delta Zero so they could get on with the more pressing matters of colonizing this new galaxy. But it all came back to manpower. _Tarkin's Fist_ had recently celebrated the birth of its fourteen millionth citizen. A pitiful number to rule a system, let alone a galaxy.

"Just one oversized Legion. The 212th Attack Legion, My Lord. A Clone Wars' unit under command of CC-2224, um, Clone Marshall Commander Cody. They're currently holding the north island of a nation called New Zealand and are subduing a local rebellion." Murp recited from his datapad.

"Excellent. Have Captain Dual of the Bureau restart very limited _Piper_ operations in that area. No need to take resources away from Seco's Surge. Just enough to offset losses from our own labor pool here on Mars. Also tell Yutu that we need a new source of labor units. See if he can identify any Terran nation at the verge of breaking. If he finds a suitable target then my directive is to lean on them to do our work for us and deliver us the necessary labor or perish under the turbolasers of _Tarkin's Fist_."

"Aye, aye My Lord." Murp entered a series of commands into his datapad as Yos studied the cityscape below him.

Yos looked up into the midday sky and smiled. Catching the local sun's distant rays was the gray outline of Kuat's massive KDY driveyard. He didn't have any trouble finding it as a steady stream of shuttles ferrying workers and supplies traveled between the orbiting shipyard and Culter City.

His eyes made out the elongated shape of the keel and superstructure of the vessel undergoing construction alongside the driveyards. The next class of Star Destroyer for the Imperial Navy wouldn't be completed for at least another two years but when it was the _Ares_ would certainly strike fear and unleash death into the hearts of anything that challenged the 1st Martian Empire. It warmed his heart to know that Phasma's Empire would be secured by his foresight to construct such might.

He strained his eyes to make out the shape of the _Tchun-Tchin_, the next colony ship that was nearing completion in the driveyards. Moff Culter had already started to load the vessel with stasis vats filled with newly cloned Twi'lek. Those newly flash-trained terraformers were meant for the colonization of the world the _StarGate_ was heading for in the nearby Epsilon Eradini system. The delivery of hypermatter would allow the _Tchun-Tchin_ to leave Mars and catch up to the exploratory vessel in a matter of hours. His Empire would spread out of the local system in less than a year, he thought, silently congratulating himself.

"Your Majesty." One of his many secretaries vied for his attention from the inside of the briefing room. The junior officer appeared shaken to be addressing the Emperor. Used to too many years on the deck of one Star Destroyer or another, Yos hardly had time for such nonsense.

"What is it, Man? I don't have all day."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, My Lord, but Daggibus Nalas would like to meet with you concerning an urgent matter." The nervous aide reported. "He is awaiting you at the Royal Planetarium."

That got Yos's attention. Nalas was one of the chief planetologists who had come through the 'big jump' under Moff Kuat's patronage. Currently the Givin astronomer was head of special projects for the Martian Ministry of Space. But before their exodus he had been Prime Astrogator for his home world of Yag'Dhul. If not for Kuat's recruitment of the top minds in the Home Galaxy Yos was sure that Nalas would happily be back home charting new hyperlanes for the Old Empire through the Inner Rim.

"Lieutenant Murp, does Captain Yutu have anything else for you to report?"

"No, My Lord."

"Then inform Yutu and Captain Dual to recall the Star Destroyers _Flood_ and _Slash_ from their duties around Earth and order them to take up station in the Phasma Belt. I need trustworthy Subterrel Squadron captains to maintain anti-piracy patrols to ensure colonization efforts are not diminished in any capacity. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lord. It shall be done at once." Murp responded.

"Excellent. You are dismissed."

The intelligence agent snapped his heels together and thrust out his arm in the Imperial military salute instead of bowing at the waist. "Hail the Empire."

"Hail." Yos responded by raising his empty right hand outwards and bending his arm at the elbow as he had seen Palpatine perform on the HoloNews of the Home Galaxy. He hated the Old Emperor for the purges of the Navy after the Clone War yet mimicked his old Master down to the smallest nuance and behavior.

Lieutenant Murp spun around and left the balcony, no doubt in a hurry to return to Fleet Intelligence's SigInt station fifty floors below.

"Shall I send for your shuttle, Your Majesty?"

Yos inhaled a large breath of warm, spring-like air. Sol was beating down on the Martian capital today, driving away the normally chilly local breeze.

"On such a fine day I think I will walk. My old legs could use a stroll. And as you have said, Nalas is only across the way at the Palace." Yos said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Sergeant," Yos called for the commander of the Royal Guardsmen detachment that was serving as his bodyguards today.

A blue armored Guardsman responded immediately, emerging from inside the briefing room. The NCO held his forcepike at attention and saluted by thumping his closed fist upon his chest plate.

"Sergeant, turn out your men. We will be walking back to the palace." Yos said.

The trooper said nothing in response but instead dropped the salute and returned to the briefing room. Yos had no doubt he was giving his squad of men orders via the comlinks in their helmets. When he followed a moment later a dozen blue-armored Guardsmen awaited him in formation inside the chamber while another squad stood at the ready out in the hallway.

Yos left the aide behind on the balcony. "At your leave, Sergeant." Yos said magnanimously. The first squad of troopers entered the turbolifts and disappeared. A second later Yos and the Guardsman Sergeant entered his personal lift. Yos assumed the rest of the squad would follow on the next available turbolift.

The doors opened a half minute later to the coordinated chaos of the main lobby of the military command center of _Tarkin's Fist_. Uniformed beings of dozens of species and military branches moved with urgent precision to carry out their orders. Several beings near the turbolifts noticed the Emperor's arrival and snapped to attention.

The normal noise and commotion of the lobby dwindled into silence as the two squads of Royal Guardsmen led the way two-by-two through the military throng. Officers by the score scurried out of their way.

A pair of Naval Troopers held the heavy transparisteel doors open as Yos and his escort passed out into the hustling Tarkin's Square, the heart and center of the new metropolis. The grand thoroughfare separated the military headquarters from the royal palace. Though closed to landspeeder traffic a large amount of airspeeders still flashed by in the skylanes high above. Foot traffic consisted of thousands of office workers. Some crossed the plaza, where they were entertained by street performers and musicians, while others grabbed a mid-day meal from scattered vendor droids around the square.

With the two dozen Royal Guardsmen surrounding him it was impossible not to go unnoticed. Beings of various species stopped and pointed at their Emperor as he made this rare public appearance. Several younglings waved a greeting as their guardians gave a proper bow as he passed by. Yos nodded and smiled at the little ones. They were the bright future of his Empire, after all.

A small flock of begging Manollium birds scattered at the approach of the blue Guardsmen, their honks and chirps echoing off the being-made canyons around him as they fluttered off towards the nearby Yos River. The waterway was yet another sign that Moff Culter's terraforming efforts had taken hold on the red planet.

Mid-way across the square Yos noticed they were approaching some type of gathering. His security escort slowed, along with his pace, to study the small crowd. A pair of red-armored Culter City Guard had been leaning against a fountain nearby. When they spotted their Emperor they suddenly looked more attentive to the potentially subversive scene.

A bearded, portly human male was standing on some type of make-shift stand and orating to a small crowd of thirty or so lunchtime bystanders. The speaker had several assistants who were either holding long staves topped with some kind of mashed-up aurabesh _vev_ and ___trill_ or were holding large flimsiplast signs. Yos read the poorly written aurabesh scrawling on the signs with some confusion.

"The kingdom of heaven is within you- Luke 17:20"

"John 3:16"

"We believe that through the grace of Lord Jesus Christ we shall be saved." Another sign said.

Yos noted a few other beings handing out small flimsiplast pamphlets to the crowd. He thought it strange that despite the number of aliens in the audience all of the members of this small group seemed to be humans. Maybe they are a family, he told himself.

The speaker seemed to spot him with his Guardsmen as they came to the rear of the crowd. The man's tone changed and he swept his arm in Yos's direction. "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's."

Several beings in the crowd nodded in agreement, though Yos wondered if any of them knew what a 'Caesar' was. He certainly didn't have the first clue.

At the mention of a 'God' Yos immediately identified them as members of another crackpot cult that had made it through the 'big jump' along with the rest of them. He looked around at the mixed beings in the gathering and wrote them off as suckers that were born every minute. The pair of CCG troopers started dispersing the obnoxious sermon's audience.

He motioned for the sergeant to join him as they passed by the crowd. "Ever hear of that group before, Sergeant?"

"No, My Lord. They don't look like any group I've ever come across but there were at least a billion so-called Gods in the Outer Rim alone." The Sergeant's voice sounded mechanical from behind his visor.

"The mention of Heaven on that one sign made them sound almost Corellian. I wonder who this Lord Jesus Christ is?" Yos wondered aloud.

"I know of no noble by that name. Perhaps that's their God's name. Probably some whack-job, Sorcerer of Tund-type from the Tingel Arm that propped himself up as a tin-wizard on some CSA backrocket planet."

"Perhaps so. Besides the Jedi who has ever heard of a religion causing anyone much grief anyways?"

"They are beneath your notice, My Lord."

Yos figured the NCO was right. So many religions, sects and cults existed in the Old Empire it was near impossible to keep track of them all. Some, like the religion of the Corellians, was far flung across space due to the Corellians' natural tendency for becoming spacers but most were localized on a single planet or moon. The Old Empire only ever admitted to being threatened by the Jedi cult, and those had been nearly wiped out during the purge.

He wondered if he should put more effort in following up on the rumors that a Jedi might be hiding somewhere among the populace of _Tarkin's Fist_. He certainly wasn't threatened by the presence of a Force-user the way Palpatine was, more curious about how he could exploit the Jedi for the New Empire's gain.

His mind returned to matters at hand as he entered the gates of the Imperial Martian Palace. At once, Imperial banners outside the palace went to their full height to mark that the regent was in residence.

Besides the Sergeant, who left his side to follow a few meters behind the Emperor, the other two squads of Guardsmen vanished in the blink of an eye. He wasn't surprised; the Palace contained dozens of secret passageways that the Imperial Guard as well as the servicebeings of the palace used to remain unseen.

He quickly swept through the Hall of Wonders, where clari-crytalline sculptures took the shapes of achievements left behind in the Old Empire: The Shawken Spire, the Imperial Palace on Imperial Center, The Dawn Pyramid of Aargau, the Cathedral of the Winds, and a completed rendition of Tarkin's _Death Star,_ amongst several others. With cheap slave labor from Earth Yos hoped to one day rebuild them all.

He passed into the Royal Gardens where two young boys were playing a game of limmie with a gold protocol droid and several of the palaces servants. The servants and the droid stopped the game and bowed at Yos as he went past. The two younglings just stared in awe at Yos and his personal Guardsman.

Griffon and Cameron Harris, the two younglings of the President of the NAU, were his guests in name if not hostages in reality. So far their father hadn't offered his own surrender in exchange for his family's release. Yos wondered where their mother was today. Jill Harris had been seen spending quite a bit of time with his daughter, Phasma. Yos wondered if he should be concerned that Phasma might be learning any undesirable Earth habits from the near-human prisoner.

His worries were forgotten a moment later as he entered the Royal Planetarium at the back of the Gardens. He had built the structure to be his personal nerve center in his quest to expand the Martian Empire as quickly and widely as possible.

Several hyperlane scouts and astronavigators were spread amongst the holomaps of star systems around the room. They were eagerly trying to map out routes to new systems that they would no doubt haul jets to the instant hypermatter was available to them. Yos didn't even pretend he would be able to control all of them but he understood that in the end their private efforts would aid the Empire. After all, Mars was the only safe haven these spacers knew in the Milky Way.

He spotted Daggibus Nalas standing beneath the room's centerpiece, a massive bronzium sculpture in the shape of the local system's major planets. The different pieces of the sculpture rotated in orbit around an alumabronze rendition of the star Sol.

Nalas was hard to miss. Like most of the Givin species he had hard, pale skin and sunken black eyes, which gave him a skeletal appearance. Nalas held his arms out straight in front of him in the Given fashion, which gamade him look even more like a ghoul.

Yos hurried to the scientist, readying himself for the inevitable quadratic equation that all mathematically-minded Givin used as a greeting. Nalas dropped to one knee as Yos came up before him.

"Rise, Daggibus. I understand you have something to tell me." Yos said, awaiting Nalas's math problem which never came.

Nalas remained where he was, refusing to meet Yos's gaze. Instead the Givin appeared nervous. This intrigued Yos even more since he had never seen one of the skeletal 'string puppets' show any sort of emotion.

"My Lord, I have found it." Nalas whispered.

Yos's heart seemed to jump out of his chest. Two years ago he had assigned Daggibus an almost impossible task. A task Yos had secretly hoped the Givin would fail at. But somehow he had succeeded.

"Everyone out!" Yos shouted.

He stood staring at the silent, kneeling figure for a moment as all the scouts and explorers left the chamber. The last to leave was his Royal Guard Sergeant, who closed the secured doors to the planetarium with a loud clang that echoed through the chamber.

"Is it far, far away?" Yos asked at last.

Nalas looked up. "I would say it was beyond our reach but our very presence here proves that it is not so."

"Rise, and show me what you've discovered." Yos said. The anxiety had already started to build inside his core. He feared everything he had begun with _Tarkin's Fist_ was suddenly endangered.

The Givin came to his feet and walked over to one of the large holoprojectors in the chamber. He inserted a datapad into the control console of the machine. Immediately the holoimage of the Milky Way Galaxy came to life above them. The swirling image grew until it encompassed both of the men, who circumnavigated the image until they found the tiny Sol System.

"As you know, My Lord, the Milky Way is a barred-spiral galaxy spanning a hundred thousand to a hundred twenty thousand light years, and containing what we and the local Terrans estimate at two hundred to six hundred billion stars. It has fourteen discovered satellite companion galaxies. It is estimated to contain fifty million orbiting planets with about twice the amount of free floating worlds as there are stars." Nalas started.

Yos was appreciative that he didn't go into the math of all of it. "All and all, a pretty average galaxy."

"Precisely, and what you had me looking for was equally average in the scheme of things. A thirty-seven parsec wide target with seven companions from _Aurek_ to _Grek._ With an immense black hole at the center and a spiral arm encircling it."

"Go on." Yos knew the target well.

"I began my search in the Local Group of galaxies that has its gravitational center midway between the Milky Way and what the Terrans dubbed the Andromeda Galaxy. They have over thirty companion galaxies between them." The holomap panned around them to a distance that showed the galaxies in question. Yos spotted even more on the periphery of the swirling holographic image around him.

Nalas continued his lecture. "Some of the galaxies presented a degraded declination or right ascension that they couldn't rightfully be ruled out as our target. I was fortunate in discovering that at least one third of the nearest hundred or so galaxies presented declinations around ninety degrees."

Yos could tell the Givin was starting to drift towards a trigonometry lesson. "So you were able to tell what type and shape they were in roughly."

"More or less, My Lord. Most of them were eliminated as potential candidates simply by their size or a lack of a central singularity at their center."

"So where is it?" Yos turned around trying to identify the celestial body he had hoped to never set eyes upon again.

"Your forgiveness, My Lord. I took much too much time eliminating the companion galaxies to Andromeda and the Milky Way that it took me some time to set my eyes on these candidates. Immediately two of the galaxies in the local group glowed brighter than the rest. "The first is the Pinwheel Galaxy in the Ursa Major Constellation. I had high hopes for this SAB type system, but in the end I ruled it out due to its immense size. My calculation put her at fifty thousand light years larger than what you had me searching for."

"So you moved on?"

"Yes, almost too fast. I made the mistake of using stolen astrological data taken from the Terrans. That data presumed that this galaxy," The remaining galaxy turned a bright green, "The Triangulum Galaxy in the Triangulum Constellation was only fifty light years in diameter. But as I learned from my own father, a tailor on Yag'Dhul, 'measure twice, cut once' I did my own equations and discovered that the Terrans used sloppy math. This galaxy is actually one hundred and twenty thousand light years across."

Nalas pushed a button on the holoprojector and the Triangulum Galaxy jumped to the size of a good sized wampa. Yos sucked in a sharp breath. Since his first days as a cadet at the Naval Academy on Anaxes he had studied star charts. Everything he had seen in those maps were all part of the highly familiar shape that floated before him now.

The Home Galaxy. Home of the 1st Galactic Empire. Home of Palpatine, Tarkin, and Vader. Home of the dreaded Imperial Security Bureau. Home of the mysterious rebellion and the undefeated Imperial Navy. The Emperor fought the urge to immediately recall all four naval squadrons around Earth and encircle Mars in a protective ring of heavy turbolasers.

"Are you certain?" Yos asked. Yos had stared at the image enough that he knew without a doubt that it was the galaxy of his birth. He only asked because he had to hear it verified aloud by another being.

"It is a ninety three point six percent certainty." The Givin answered. "There are some discrepancies."

"Such as?"

"Well there is the question of how we traveled here from there. The Triangulum is three million light years away. No vessel I know of carries enough hypermatter for such a voyage, nor could any crew survive such a lengthy journey. There's also the matter of the hyperspace disturbance and . . ."

Yos cut him off, "But you're certain that's home?"

"I have been doing the math for five straight weeks. It is with some shame that I had to consult a highly upgraded navicomputer to make some of my calculations."

Well, that was something, Yos thought. Yos knew it was only with great hesitation that a Givin put any trust in a computer. Their species preferred their own minds to those of droids. It must have been a huge concession for Nalas to even admit such a thing. "What did you and your navi discover?"

"Well there certainly had to be some accountability for drift and rotation, but by using a primitive Earth method based on studying star's gravitational wobble for detecting exoplanets, as well as using the 'transit' method where a star losses its brightness when a planet moves in front of it, I ruled that the majority of worlds in the Home Galaxy are where they should be. Even your home world of Denon and my own Yag'Dhul. Some, however, seem to have vanished completely."

Yos was relieved to hear that Denon still existed. Planets got obliterated every year by asteroids or supernovas, so he wasn't surprised to hear there had been some cosmic real estate changes. "Like who?"

"Andra, Ova, Carida," Yos raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Imperial training planet, "Hirsi, Krinemonen, Sernpidal, Tandum III, Byss,"

"Byss! Palpatine's hidden redoubt? That is disturbing. I wonder if Old Palps was there."

"I do not know the circumstances of its disappearance only that it is no longer where it should be. Amongst some of the other missing planets are Da Soocha V, Bedara, Aeten II, Alderaan," Just kriffing great Yos thought. He had a lot of servicemen and women that hailed from Alderaan. What kind of disaster had made it through her planetary shields he wondered.

"Also disturbing was the absence of any sign of Desparye." Nalas concluded his short list. Yos looked at the datapad in the Givin's hand and noted that it was much longer than the one Nalas had recited.

"Desparye? The starting point for the slave-rigged 'big jump'. Do you suppose we had anything to do with its disappearance? That jump must have contained an unheard of amount of energy to propel us this far."

"It is rumored that Moff Kuat was conducting experiments on gravitic polarization during the events that led us on this far-flung exodus. Theoretically, if used incorrectly, my calculations suggest such power could create a hyperspace wormhole." Nalas suggested.

Yos scowled. He remembered quite clearly the arguments he had had with the Kuati Governor shortly before the the slave-rig was engaged. _There's no stopping science_, the Kuati had vehemently declared as they prepared to set off for the maw. Yos had never been able to prove anything but he had been sure that Kuantus Kuat had been up to something during the 'big jump'.

"This galaxy, if it is truly the Home Galaxy, seems far, far away. Based on the time it would take the light of this galaxy to reach this local system, how long would you estimate it's been since we departed the Galactic Empire?"

"Certainly a long time ago." Nalas avoided any sort of committed answer.

"How many others have you told of your discovery?" Yos asked.

"No one, My Lord. I knew the gravity of such a task could only be entrusted to someone with my abilities. Your Highness has shown me the utmost favor entrusting me with such a duty. I saw no advantage in informing any of my peers or junior associates in this quest. All knowledge that has been learned is either on this datapad or in here." Nalas pointed a boney finger towards his own skull.

"And how about the Moffs? The Admiralty? The Bureau of Operations? Any scientific holozine articles to further add to your esteem? I know how you scientists work."

"No one, My Lord. I swear it. You and I are the only beings alive who know of this secret." Nalas had fear in his voice.

"Good. . .very good. This secret has a power all in its own."

"What is it you fear, My Lord?"

"Others will want to return to the Empire . . . the Old Empire. We have been devoid of everything they have ever known out here. And we have been on our own. Many will want to return to the familiar."

"But there isn't any way to get there." Nalas seemed lost. His hollow face seemed to be a study in confusion. "The 'big jump' had to have been a series of unreplicatable errors to have allowed us to survive the first time."

"No doubt, but the masses don't know that. Dropping this information on them today and we'll have blood-soaked chaos in the streets tomorrow. Civil war the day after that."

"Surely this information will not stay in the dark forever. Secrets like this have a way of finding the light of day."

"You speak the truth, my friend." Yos reached forward and placed a hand on the shoulder of the Givin. "We must tell them in a way that does not endanger what we have built here on Mars."

"Perhaps, Your Majesty would start with breaking it to an esteemed upper echelon of his most trustworthy advisers?" Nalas suggested.

Yos thought about it. He really needed to get on top of this before it escaped and got ahead of him. Nothing but disaster loomed if he let it get out of control.

"Next month I want you to join me when I have my regent's council. We will use that as an opportunity to let the rest of _Tarkin's Fist_ know that we may have found the way home. Until then tell no one what you have discovered."

"As you wish, My Lord."

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Reviews are very welcome


	55. Kuat of Kuat 4

**Central DockBay 5, KDY Type II Orbital Repair Yard 1138, Aerocentric Orbit, Mars**

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Kuantus Kuat was a man besieged on all sides.

Sheets of flimsiplasts and stacks of datachips were scattered across his desk, awaiting his attention. Kuat sighed, not out of frustration at the sheer volume of work ahead of him, but because he worried that he wouldn't get to it all, or worse, that he might miss something.

He studied a report from Incom requesting funds to build a new prototype of a dedicated vacuum/atmospheric airspeeder they were calling an 'A-wing' based on the old R-22 _Spearhead_ design. Another report from the Armored Corps requested new AT-STs with built-in jammers and laser-defenses for fending off improvised detonation device attacks from the earthlings. Underneath that was a requisition for a new type of droid capable of bomb disposal. These were followed by more requests for heavier armor, faster walkers and just about everything else underneath the galactic core. All of them were marked urgent, which frustrated Kuat even more. Just because it was urgent to whomever had sent it didn't mean it was deserving of Kuat's immediate attention.

His sat with his back to the large transpiristeel viewport that formed the walls of his executive office in the center of the Kuat Drive Yard orbital dockyard. The nothingness of the void on the outside was alight with the sparks from hundreds of vacuum arc welders and other various driveyard workers moving across the hull of the _Tchun-Tchin__._ This was to be the second colony vessel built by the driveyard and would serve as an orbital base when they began the terraformation of the planet astronavigators had located in the nearby Epsilon Eradani system.

Thanks to the attention of some of the finest shipwrights the Old Empire had ever employed the _Tchun-Tchin_ was already a generation ahead of her sister, the _Sweet Skako,_ launched just three months ago. The _Sweet Sako_ was currently supporting colonization efforts from orbit around Earth 2.

Kuat had been so immersed in a thousand other projects that he had only had time for a cursory glance at all of the advanced systems that had gone into the new ship. She was already being loaded with the first cloning vats full of Twi'lek clones, despite the fact that the starship wasn't slated for completion for another two weeks. The ever quickening spread of the Empire was threatening to drown his driveyards in new orders. the feeling would be exhilerating if it weren't so sith-spawned irritating.

"Ah, to live in exciting times." He said to himself as he read a report of a hundred new TIE/In _Interceptors_ that had been delivered to the Imperial Fleet from one of the Seiner Fleet System factories he owned in Culter City. The quick fighters were only now starting to see service on Earth but would slowly be replacing the battered squadrons of TIE/In _Starfighters_ that had served there since the war began. He read another report about some of the defenses the Terrans had developed to counter the older TIEs and wondered if he shouldn't have favored the TIE _Advanced x1_ over the _Interceptors_ a year ago. A shield would have least given the Imperial pilots the advantage they had lost when they had discovered just how quick the Terran's atmospheric airspeeders were. "Perhaps in time for the next war." he muttered.

"My Kuat of Kuat?" Gage asked from the plush couch on the other side of the sprawling office. His aide was busy sifting through reports for items that required Kuantus's urgent attention. "Is there something you require?"

"No, my friend. I'm just an old man talking to himself." Kuat joked

"They do say the mind is the first thing to go, my Kuat of Kuat." Gage jibed.

"May the Force grant me the senility to forget the beings I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I do like, and the eyesight to tell the difference." Both Kuati laughed at Kuat's wit, though Kuat suspected the younger male was only doing it out of courtesy. Kuantus had never been known for his sense of humor.

In his stack of reports he came across a notice from the office of the Martian Medical Corps and his mind turned to more serious matters. The Ebola crisis had run its course and come to its hopeful conclusion. Kuat breathed a sigh of relief.

He was one of only a few beings who knew the extent of the danger that had threatened Mars. Thanks to back channel cover-ups and outright threats the HoloNews had barely uttered a peep about the outbreak. Officially, the populace of Mars knew only that a few camp guards had contracted the disease from being in close proximity to so many filthy Terrans.

Unofficially, however, Kuantus knew that the death toll had climbed to just over three hundred by the time the virus had run its course. Only the advanced medical resources of the Empire had allowed the disease to be contained at all instead of raging like wildfire through the crowded airways of Culter City. That, he mused regretfully, and the destruction of tens of thousands of captured Terrans suspected of being disease carriers inside Concentration Camp 1138.

Kuantus put the notice aside and wondered how quickly Operation _Piper_ would be able to resume on Earth to make up for the labor units they had lost. Unfortunately for them the new arrivals wouldn't be forced to ingest Smiley Spice. That experiment was now considered to have been a colossal failure, considering so many infected Smilies had failed to complain about their painful symptoms. Camp guards reported that the victims had worked with a smile until they collapsed and their liquefied organs started bleeding out of every orifice. Kuat shuddered at the vile thought and pushed the sufferings of lowly labor units out of his mind. If not for the medical reports that crossed his desk he would have never had to notice beings so far beneath his own station in the Empire.

A sudden chime from the turbolift dragged his eyes upward. He wasn't expecting anyone and was perturbed that someone had gotten past his small army of secretaries on the floor below without his being notified.

Gage glanced at the turbolift doors, concerned. Evidently the younger Kuati wasn't expecting anyone either. Gage stood and faced the door, his hand resting on the sidearm strapped to his hip. Kuantus remained seated at his desk, his hand calmly wrapping around the hilt of the Model Q4 hold-out blaster secretly bolted to the underside of his desk. He was no stranger to the term _hostile takeover_.

The door slid open with a swoosh and two figures rushed out of the conveyance with a speed Kuat had thought possible of only the legendary Jedi Knights. In a heartbeat they had Gage wrapped up in an arm-lock that prevented him from ever drawing his blaster. Kuantus relaxed his grip on his blaster. He stood no chance against these two.

"Let him go." Said a voice from the turbolift.

"Your Majesty?" Kuat gasped.

Gage's assailants relieved him of his weapon and shoved Gage back onto a nearby couch. They then moved around to flanking positions on the outskirts of the room.

The condition of his assistant was of no concern at the moment. Kuat scrabbled to his feet and bowed to show proper respect.

Princess Phasma Yos stepped out of the turbolift, followed closely by an older woman whom Kuat recognized from the HoloNews: First Lady Jill Harris of the North American Union. He glanced at the the Princess's guards, finally recognizing them as plain-clothed Imperial Guardsmen.

"Really, Moff Kuat, is this how you always greet your guests? With armed personal assistants waiting to blast them down the moment they step from your turbolift?" Phasma smiled. For an instant her grin reminded Kuat of someone he had met long ago in the Republic's Senate but the strange impression faded in the face of the present situation.

"My dear Phasma, if I had only known that I would be honored with your presence today I would have certainly received you in a manner worthy of your grace." Kuat said with utter sincerity. He had always been fond of the younger Yos, seeing in her an inner strength that her father somehow lacked.

"My visit here today never happened. With the aide of my bodyguards we were able to bypass the personnel you have stationed in this tower so that we may talk privately. I trust that I have you and your aide's discretion in this matter." Phasma said, glancing at Gage.

"But of course. Gage, please serve us some Bluefruit Kintle Tea, if you would." Kuat commanded. Gage nodded and excused himself to a side room that housed a small kitchenette. Kuat waved his two guests towards chairs in front of his large desk. The two females took their seats.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Harris. The HoloNews does not do you justice." Kuat had decided to lay on the praise until he knew what type of game the Princess was playing. Gage returned with three cups of tea before excusing himself to the rear of the room.

"I understand you are the man who built the vessels that are currently wrecking my world." The Lady Harris said. "You must be proud of the job they are doing, murdering so many innocents."

Kuat knew she was baiting him and so answered with a calculated flatness, "I'm afraid not all of the designs are mine. The _Acclamators_ in the Anoat Squadron were designed by my sister Onara. The _Imperial-_class vessels are certainly mine. I have spent half a lifetime on them. They are like my own younglings. But in the end they are only a tool and like any tool they are no guiltier than a craftsman's hammer or a mechanic's hydrospanner. It is the intents of their users that unleashes so much horror upon your world and I find no joy in any being's death."

"So you see yourself as merely a merchant, a tradesman, if you will? Does this allow you to sleep at night?" The woman seemed incredibly charming as she asked such pointed questions. Kuat glanced at Phasma and noted that the Princess was studying the Terran intensely.

"I sleep quite well. Oh, I know I have blood on my hands, but no more than your own merchants who sell your armies their slugthrowers, their quaint, wheeled-hovertanks, and your nuclear bombs, one of which crippled one of my _Imperial-_class Star Destroyers before this small engagement between our worlds even began." Kuat felt his voice rise and noticed a twitch in the Terran's eyes that said she didn't appreciate his implication that the war was the Earth's own stang fault.

"Please, Moff Kuat, this is not what I came here for. I sought you out under the cloak of secrecy because I require your counsel." Phasma interrupted what could have easily descended into a heated argument.

"My apologies for acting like some Mid-Rim bore." Kuat said to the First Lady. He turned to Phasma and added, "As always, I am at your service."

"I've come to ask you where your loyalty lies." Phasma asked.

Kuat was taken aback. He had believed he had the trust of the Royal Family of Mars. After all, had he not fled Palpatine's reach with the rest of _Tarkin's Fist_? And hadn't he also backed Phasma's Father's ascendency to the throne here on Mars?

His chagrin must have shown across his features, because she immediately assed, "I don't mean to offend . . ."

"On Earth the merchant's loyalty always lies with the highest bidder. Is that not the way business is done in the galaxy you come from?" The Terran asked. "You have already turned your back on one Emperor. What's to stop you from betraying another?"

"I am already a wealthy man, Lady Harris. Credits hold very little sway over me in the twilight of my life. Thirteen years ago I made enough money through the creation of the Fleet that saved Coruscant to buy and sell your little mudball of a world a hundred times over. I did this out of loyalty to the Old Republic and my own personal beliefs that the Separatist cause was wrong. The governorship of one of Palpatine's satraps held very little interest to me. I even sacrificed my most precious possession, my son, whom I left behind in my stead. But that was a decision I made freely to follow your Father into the maw, Your Highness."

The look on Phasma's face showed that she was unaware of his personal sacrifice. He kept his face impassive to hide the pain of the loss that felt more acute with every passing day but he hoped that she would see that if he had already lost his son for Tarkin and Yos he had nothing to gain by following another's lead.

Phasma sidestepped the delicate issue of Kuat's family and kept her inquiry to matters of the here and now. "I know the story well. Every youngling knows of Greivous's defeat over Imperial Center and the rescue of Palpatine when he was still merely Chancellor of the Old Republic. Your loyalty during the last war goes without question. What I want to know is what you Martian Moffs are up to behind my Father's back these days."

Kuat studied the Princess's face for any sign of what she may be thinking. Clearly the youngling was operating under the assumption that one of his fellow Moffs posed some sort of threat to the throne. "I can only speak for myself but I assure you my actions have always had the benefit of the new Empire in mind. The Kuats have been loyal to the Empire and the Old Republic longer than Hutts have been without consciences and we shall remain so here in the Milky Way. I have my own concerns about Culter but his aims are so in line with your Father's that I couldn't envision him straying far from the House of Yos. We are not whom you are wondering about, are we?"

Phasma thought about that, casting her eyes down at the desk for a few seconds before looking him in the eye again. "No, you are not. I recently have had dire dealings with Moff Seco here on Mars."

"I've heard as much through my own sources. You are to be commended for getting the fool to get off of his _shebs_ and pursue this war with more vigor. This 'Surge' of his is finally getting results." Kuat said. He knew this isn't what she meant and so he waited. Kuat could be patient when it suited him.

"Yes, I felt our stormtroopers were horribly exposed to those Being Bombs the Terrans continue to employ. When I called on him Seco was meeting with a high level officer. . ."

"Captain Charge, whom my own spies have told me has recently made a rather large deposit of pure aurodium into his banking account." Kuat revealed. By the look on Phasma's face and the worried glance that flashed between the two females across from him, he knew he had touched on something they were unaware of.

"If he has, then he's not the only one either. Aurodium has been showing up all across Culter City, usually in the hands of Naval officers. My father seems not to notice but I find it most troubling." Phasma said.

"As you should, Your Highness. I have been approached by officers of the 3rd Kuati Fleet who are under Moff Seco's command. They claim that they were approached by agents funded by unknown sources attempting to buy their loyalty."

"Have you heard of this occurring in any of the other squadrons?" Jill Harris asked. She seemed to be well informed for a political prisoner and Kuat made note of this. This Jill Harris was not a woman to be taken for granted.

"I couldn't say one way or the other about the Ploo or Anoat Squadron. The Anoat vessels are manned primarily by clones. I know Seco has never had any trust in the vat-hatched, preferring to use them in what he sees as the less critical role of Operations _Piper_ and _Stork._ Did you know that he has recently attached political officers to every major command currently engaged on Earth? _Especially_ the Anoat Squadron."

"Yes, I have heard this. Hopefully, this can be countered if need arises. It reeks of the ISB back in the Home Galaxy." Phasma admitted.

"Force forbid. If even one of that scum found its way here heads would roll." Kuat said.

"You haven't answered the Princess's question, Moff Kuat. Where would your loyalties lie if you were called upon to betray the Emperor, if not the Empire?" Harris asked.

Kuat wished she hadn't. He preferred to maintain a middle of the roadway policy in any situation. 'Selling to both sides always garnered the greatest profit' was a maxim as old as the planet Kuat itself.

"It has never been a secret that Moff Seco and I do not see eye to eye." This was an almost unforgivable understatement. Kuat utterly detested the Ploo Governor ever since the man had stolen his bacta researchers from under his nose last year. "Seco's nature revolves around the ability to destroy what has been crafted. I loathe this bleak vision. Your Father wishes to take us out of the local system and set our banner upon the worlds of this new galaxy. I also desire this, as through the exploration of this universe there will be no limit to what we could discover. Seco would have us stagnate alongside these Terrans, which is an utterly deplorable idea." Lady Harris flinched, but Kuat offered no apologies to the Terran across from him.

"And the Third Kuati Fleet?" Phasma asked.

"Kuati will always follow the Kuat of Kuat. It is our belief to hold Kuat before all else." He noticed Gage nodding in agreement at the back of the office. He hoped the younger Yos wouldn't see this as a threat towards the Martian throne, upon which he had no desire to sit.

"Then you are a target as well." Jill said. "If Seco is moving against the Emperor, as the Princess and I are convinced that he is, he must find a way to neutralize or discredit you."

"I've had my doubts recently about the Ploo Governor, as well, but I do not fear him as you do. Seco is a coward. It is his nature. Besides, if he were behind this plot where could he have obtained the aurodium that has made a sudden appearance?" Kuat asked.

"I believe that Seco is merely moving against me or one of my corporations. Of course, I have measures in place to counter this if he proves to be so foolish. Seco followed Tarkin's orders into the maw along with the rest of us because the Ploo Moff had issues with Palpatine's enforcer, Darth Vader. Seco was always loyal to Palpatine and I am convinced the Moff is loyal to the new order as well, in his own manner.

"My greatest fear is that he is moving to abandon us with the Earthlings and take to the stars with his squadron and whatever leeches he can buy to accompany him." Kuat wanted to believe that Phasma's concerns were the irrational fears of a youngling but there was something in her demeanor that suggested a sense of wisdom and resolve that belied her years.

When he added a moment later, "Though I do not trust the slippery Moff I believe him incapable of direct military action against the New Order." He wasn't sure whom he was trying to convince.

"The innocent only exist until they inevitably become the perpetrators. Guilt or innocence is a matter of timing." Phasma quoted Palpatine. "As Heir to the Empire, shall I have you swear an oath, My Moff?"

Kuat was taken aback that he hadn't assuaged the girl of her concerns over Moff Seco. Certainly she was seeing something he wasn't but she prudently wasn't volunteering anything further. He suddenly had an urge to double his guard force.

"You have it, Your Highness. I swear with my own life that my loyalty and service will always remain with the House of Yos." Phasma reached out and offered her hand. He gently kissed her outstretched fingers as a sign of fealty.

"I hope that there never arises a time where that would come into doubt. These are trying times, Kuantus." Kuat was mildly shocked when Phasma used his given name. It was the first time he had heard it from a Yos.

"Indeed. Is there anything else you require from me, Your Highness? I expect I cannot mention this meeting to your Father." Kuat asked.

"No. My Father is currently more concerned with the lifeless void beyond this system than the beings living and thriving within his realm." Phasma sighed.

"Then he is truly fortunate to have you protecting his interests when he cannot." Kuat offered.

"Not as fortunate as we are to have your eminence amongst the beings of _Tarkin's Fist_. This discussion has done much to put my mind at ease. I am sorry to have ever doubted your loyalty to the 1st Martian Empire." Phasma said.

"Think nothing of it. A mere sign of the times, as you Terrans are fond of saying." Kuat smiled at the First Lady. She nodded in understanding. He wondered how Phasma's little alliance with the Terran had come about in the first place. Whether for better or worse it was obvious that they were rubbing off on each other.

"We shall leave you then. I know you are a busy man." Phasma offered as she rose to her feet. Ever the gentlebeing, Kuat stood and came around the desk to say his farewells. Phasma offered her arm, which he took as he slowly ushered her to the door. Ahead of them the two guardsmen filed into the back of the turbolift.

"Your presence shall always be a warm distraction in my tribulations, Your Grace. As our future Empress my door is always open to you. In fact. . ." Kuantus started to say.

"Holy Mary, mother of God." The First Lady exclaimed from behind him.

Kuat and Phasma turned to see what had caused such an interesting remark from the Terran noblewoman. The First Lady had her back to them and was gazing in astonishment out of the curved viewport behind Kuat's desk. She took a few short steps forward before pressing her hands to the transparisteel to look outside.

While they had been talking the central tower of the orbital driveyard had rotated again until it was facing DockBays 7 and 8. The massive keel of the _Ares_ stretched out for nineteen kilometers into the void. The titanium-reinforced alusteel hull and durasteel superstructure were slowly taking shape around the newly placed thirteen Executor-50.x fusion drive engines. Hundreds of fleet tender vessels and large construction droids supported the tens of thousands of dockyard workers that were crawling over her skin like Tatooine sand flies over a dewback in their gargantuan task of completing her within the next two years.

Kuat walked the Princess up next to the First Lady and looked out at the sea of activity beneath them. "A thing of beauty. A true masterpiece of science and technology." Kuat said from behind them.

"Do you intend to use this against the Earth?" Harris asked.

"No, the conflict on your world will long be over by the time the _Ares_ is ready to slip her moorings for her maiden voyage. Ten of the Star Destroyers currently in orbit around Earth will have to be retired just to supply her crew. The intention of the Emperor is to use her to counter any unseen threat that may lay in wait for us somewhere in the Milky Way."

"And you designed her. In a way you are the modern equivalent of Dr. Frankenstein and this is your monster." Harris waved her hand at the Super Star destroyer's construction site. "I pray that you have better control of your monster than he did of his."

Kuat thought on that for a second, catching her implication even though he didn't understand the reference. When the _Ares_ was finally completed she would be the ultimate power in the Milky Way. Whoever was at her helm would master an entire galaxy. His thoughts turned dark for a moment before coming back to reality.

"Moff Kuat?" Phasma nudged him and he realized that he hadn't responded to Lady Harris's statement.

"Much of it was designed by a former associate of mine, Lira Wessex, who took the design to Emperor Palpatine before we came here. Before we left on the 'big jump' I learned that the _Ares_ had a sister currently being built by the shipwrights at the Fondor Shipyards. Supposedly Lord Vader had a vested interest in the vessel. It was my wounded pride with the Emperor's slight of not using the far superior KDY dockyards at Kuat that led to Grand Moff Tarkin tapping me for this mission."

"Develop technology without wisdom or prudence then your servant shall become your executioner." Harris offered. It sounded like a warning, a warning that was not lost on the aged Moff. Hey statement led to a contemplative silence in the office for a moment.

Phasma dispelled the uncomfortable silence with a smile. "Well I am certainly glad he did. We would have been lost without your assistance in this new galaxy."

Kuat noticed Lady Harris trying not to roll her eyes at the Princess's proclamation. He was sure the First Lady believed she would be better off if _Tarkin's Fist _had smashed to bits in the asteroid belt that surrounded this system. From her viewpoint she was probably correct, he told himself.

"Now we really must be on our way. Until we meet again, Moff Kuat." Phasma curtsied.

"May it be soon, your Highness." Kuat bowed as the Princess and First Lady turned and headed towards the turbolift. Lady Harris continued to turn her head back and stare at the _Ares_ as they departed. Kuat chuckled softly to himself. It wasn't often that one saw the Tarkin Doctrine in action.

As soon as the doors to the turbolift closed Gage said. "Disturbing. Do you really believe there is anything to the Princess's concerns, my Kuat of Kuat?"

"Seco is stupid and reckless, a dangerous combination. We have seen that our fellow Moff is maneuvering for some unseen goal but to take on the Emperor face to face would be madness. Yos has the support of the Martian beings, especially after he gave so many of them their freedom from the oppression of the Galactic Empire. Seco only has one squadron of ships. If he moved against the Empire he would face odds of three-to-one." Kuantus mused as he walked back to the viewport to gaze at the construction effort outside.

"What would you surmise he is contriving?" Gage asked, coming to stand beside Kuantus.

"Seco has no power base here and I'm fairly certain he has Separatist leanings by the lackadaisical manner in which he has pursued a favorable conclussion to the war on Earth. I am positive he must be preparing to flee this system as soon as hypermatter becomes available. Once he is gone he will find a world and set himself up as some sort of Wild Space Warlord, leaving the rest of the Empire holding the bag with the Empire-Earth War."

"His followers will shrivel up and blow away out in Wild Space."

"Not if he finds a habitable world or if these concerns that he has some sort of hidden aurodium supply are true. He may be able to buy the loyalty of those who follow him. It is a tragedy that he will take so many fine officers and crew with him when the Empire is in such desperation for such beings. One day the _Ares_ may find him again and the Empire shall have a reckoning. I fear I shall be long gone by then."

"May it never by so, My Lord. Why didn't you tell Princess Phasma that you have surmised this as a certainty?" Gage asked.

"She and her father would prevent it. If a rival wants to leave the ring who am I to stop him. I say good riddance to Moff Seco."

"Such a far-seeing vision for. . ." Gage was cut off by a loud chime coming from his comlink attached to his belt, "Excuse me, My Lord."

"Of course." Kuantus waved the young man away as he watched the progress below. Lost in his own thoughts he barely noticed the excitement rise in Gage's voice as he talked into his comm device. Gage hung up quickly and turned back to Kuat. "Good news?"

"Possibly." Gage said. "It has begun."

Kuat was momentarily taken aback, "The first one already?" Gage nodded. "Have my shuttle standing by. We must return to Culter City at once."

"Yes, Kuat of Kuat." Gage hurried away.

Kuantus could feel the rush of adrenaline that was coursing through his veins. He got the same sensation whenever he was on the verge of a scientific breakthrough. He gathered his personal datapad and affixed his towering headgear upon his thinning copse of gray hair. He was out the door and to his personal _Starwind__-_class pleasure yacht before Gage caught up. The young Kuati leaped through the closing door as Kuantus was taking his seat.

"Excuse me, My Lord. I had to inform the facility that we were en route." Gage said. "Niobe is already at the site and awaits our arrival."

"Excellent. This is most exciting news, though no scientific discovery comes without risk. Have a release ready for the Emperor in case the experiment proves a failure."

"It will be done, My Lord." Gage started working on his datapad.

The _Starwind_ hardly shuddered at all when she hit the upper magnetosphere of Mars. Her advanced inertial dampers allowed Kuat to enjoy the trip in comfort while the luxury vessel maneuvered through a steep dive on its destination. The Kuati Moff was in a hurry and his pilots feared heads would roll if their Kuat of Kuat was displeased. Five minutes after leaving the KDY Dockyard the _Starwind_ was slowing for its landing at their terminus.

Kuat peered out the viewport and noted that the sprawl of Culter City was starting to envelop the gene therapy medical facility that housed the _Stork_ Project. New housing units and flash training centers were slowly rising into the sky around the center. These were the future homes for the millions of new citizens that were expected as a result of the population experiment.

The _Starwind_ settled down on the facility's landing pad. Kuat brushed aside his guard and exited the starship before the loading ramp was all the way to the ground. He rushed forward with Gage panting to keep up in his wake.

Ahead of him his other aide, Niobe, awaited along with a pair of nurses which Kuat immediately identified as an Epicanthix and a breath mask wearing Ubese. Evidently the Miraluka Director of the facility was keeping with his policy of employing only near-humans to see to the needs of the program's 'guests'.

"I am sorry, My Kuat of Kuat, but Director Culu was unable to personally greet you." Niobe explained, referring to the man Kuat had hired to run the project and who had usually been on hand to show Kuat and other luminaries around the facility when he was called upon. "He is currently engaged with the second 'arrival'."

"Do you mean I missed the first?" Kuat felt dejected. He always preferred to be on hand when an experiment produced results.

"I sent word to Gage as soon as it began, My Lord. He said you were detained." Niobe turned to the two nurses. "Take us to the delivery suites at once." she ordered.

"Yes, My Lady." They echoed.

They walked ahead of Moff Kuat and his entourage entering the building and passing into the sterile, white halls that housed the pregnant females who had been taken from the Terran slave population. They numbered in the tens of thousands now, having multiplied several times over since the last time he had visited.

The women below were on edge. They knew that the first of them had come to term and the resulting excitement of the geneticists and medical personnel was palpable. Even the various 21-B and GH-7 medical droids seemed to be beeping with emotional fervor as he passed them in the hallway.

They reached a secured blast door that was guarded by a pair of stormtroopers who came to attention at Moff Kuat's approach. They stood aside as the Ubese nurse punched in a lock-code on the security panel. She then removed her helmet and underwent a retinal print recognition. Once the security computer was satisfied with her identity the blast door split horizontally in the middle before receding into the floor and ceiling.

The next section of the facility was nearly empty. Instead it was filled with room after room of operating suites and birthing chambers. A small number of them were filled with restrained Terrans evidently in various stages of labor. They were being attended to by floating Chroon-Tan B midwife droids who spoke in a soothing, nonsensical language designed to calm newborns.

"Moff Kuat! Am I so glad to sense you." Director Curu exclaimed as he came out of a nearby birthing chamber. His empty eye sockets were covered by a veil in the Miraluka fashion. He was carrying a small infant who was swaddled in a blanket covered in pictures of dancing banthas. The newborn human was dark skinned like a Socorron and had thin, curly black hair. "I had expected you earlier."

"I was detained but I am here now. Is the youngling healthy?" Kuat pointed to the newborn. Behind Director Curu an Arkanian orderly pushed the mother out of the room on a repulsor bed. The woman was restrained by several straps and had obviously been crying quite profusely during the birth. Kuat understood that birth was a painful process so he really couldn't blame her. She stared vibroblades of hate into the Director's back as she was transported down the hall.

"Yes, this one is a male. The first birth was a female. Both younglings are healthy." Curu turned to the Ubese nurse and handed her the infant. "Nurse, take this newborn to the testing center and begin the battery of exams at once."

"Yes, Sir." The Ubese took the newborn and left.

"I am sorry, My Lord, if I appear rude in any way. We induced twelve mothers three hours ago. In that time my staff has reported that seven other mothers are coming to term naturally."

"It sounds like you are in for a busy night. How many births do you expect in the next week?" Kuat asked.

"Of the females who have successfully completed the gene therapy program we are expecting four hundred births in the next five days. That rate should only increase until the completion of the first stage of Operation _Stork._ We have on staff almost fifty OB/GYN and pediatric doctors as well as twice that amount of surgical droids to handle the duty." Curu explained. He had started walking down the passage to another blast door at the end of the hall. Kuat knew where the passageway headed and walked alongside the Miraluka.

"And the mothers? Once they have given birth what is to become of them?" Kuat asked pointing back the way the mother had been taken.

"Transports are standing by to take them back to Camp 1138. They will stay here for observation for two hours and then released. As ordered they were administered no anesthesia for the procedure due to shortages caused by the war on their planet. If complications arise during any of the births my staff has orders to take the necessary steps to save the newborn, up to and including euthanasia of the carriers. Also, for the success of the second stage, the females are not to be permitted to see their offspring or bond with it in any way."

"That is good. They must have all ties to their past severed if they are to become proper beings of the Empire."

They got to the blast door, which opened automatically at the Director's approach. On the other side was a sprawling nursery filled with hundreds of cribs. The massive medical ward was staffed by at least twenty nurses and orderlies, all of whom were crowded around one crib in the center of the room. As soon as the Director and Moff Kuat entered they all scattered in an effort to appear busy.

Curu and Kuat made straight for the crib the staff had been devoting their attentions to. One nurse, an Omwati, stood beside the crib. Kuat deduced that she was the youngling's assigned nurse. Kuat looked down at the newborn. This one was pale and had thin, reddish hair upon its scalp. She had bright green eyes and stared straight at him in amazement. He took him a second to realize she was entranced by his towering headgear.

"Nurse Xux, what are the results of this newborn's exams?" Curu asked.

"Sir, Youngling AA-0001 is healthy, all vital signs and tests are in the blue." Xux responded.

Kuat didn't care about that, he was looking for a different answer altogether, "And the potassium levels in the youngling. Have they been checked?"

"Yes, Moff Kuat. That's the very first thing we did. This youngling is presenting no traceable level of potassium anywhere in its system. Its nervous system is showing no ill signs of any deficiency of the rare mineral." Xux said.

Kuat and Curu looked at each other as smiles of success slowly crept across their faces. Kuat reached out his hand in congratulations, which the Director gladly shook. "Congratulations, Director. Do you know what this means?"

"That these younglings can grow up to be successful contributing members of the Empire." Curu said.

"We won't have to keep growing their sickly crops either. They can spread out to the planets we are colonizing without any dietary limitations. We will soon be adding several more million beings to the Empire's population." Kuat exclaimed.

"A great day, indeed." Curu agreed.

"Director, youngling AA-0002 has passed all exams and is clear of the potassium limitation." The Ubese nurse declared as she entered the room carrying the newborn from before."

"Astral news, Nurse. Please place the youngling in its assigned crib for feeding and observation." Curu ordered. The Ubese handed the infant over to a Kiffar orderly.

"Anything else to report Nurse Xux?" Kuat asked.

"Just a rise in other chemical levels, my Lord. Nothing that isn't in the normal Imperial human norms. Perhaps it is their body's way to compensate." Xux said looking at her datapad. "I have already forwarded a report to you, Director."

"If you'd be so kind as to send me a copy of that report, my dear, it would be much appreciated." Kuat requested.

The Ubese walked up to them. "Excuse me, sir, The delivery staff has requested your presence. Six more mothers are presenting and three mothers are in the final stages of labor."

"If you'll excuse me, my Lord, duty calls." Curu bowed a farewel and exited the nursery.

Kuat turned to his two aides, "Yes, our duty is to the Yos Empire. We must remember that the Emperor is the one that made this possible. This project will prove to be an immense boon to Lord Culter and my own efforts and factions here on Mars. Perhaps there is something to the Princess's concerns. If Seco knows what this project means to his future power base here on Mars he may take extreme measures to stop it. We should do more to be on our guard from here on out." Kuat warned.

Niobe touched his arm in assurance. "We will be, Kuat of Kuat."

"Kuat before all else." Gage said.

"Yes, of course," Kuantus agreed. "Kuat before all else."

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Reviewing is the will of the Force


	56. Loi Cas 4

**12 kilometers east of Lishui, outskirts of Nanjing, People's Republic of China, Earth**

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To Colonel Loi Cas the remains of the People's Liberation Army resembled a sausage. After it had been through a meat grinder. Twice.

Cas no longer commanded the 3289th Armor Brigade. It hadn't been taken away from him, there just wasn't any of it left to command. One after another the Type 99A2s of his brigade had been hunted down and destroyed by the alien-devils. Even the original track he had been commanding during the debacle in Shanghai had been lost to one of the enemy's 'flying eye-ball' dive bombers a week back.

Cas had barely had time to mourn the loss of his men. He had fought as an infantry officer for the past week through one retreat after another, ever since the aliens had finally stepped out from behind their indestructible energy shield.

He hadn't been inside the city of Changzhou when the invaders had annihilated it from orbit with their spaceships. Instead he had been south of the city trying to stalk one of the enemy's dragon-walkers. To his disgrace he had been unsuccessful and had lost four tanks in the attempt.

Now he finally had another tank to command. A Korean Union K2 Black Panther, whose crew had been killed as they were disembarking from their rail transport at the beginning of the aliens' attack. The PLA was throwing anything and everything at the Imperial's attack and weren't about to let an unmanned track go unused in China's defense.

When someone had found out that he was an armor officer they had given him the tank, a driver from a mechanized supply unit and a gunner from an artillery unit who was used to working around large guns. They would have to do, he told himself. The rest of his new brigade consisted of a pair of older Type 95 tanks and about seventy infantrymen. He'd been given three hours to shape them into some sort of fighting unit before the next alien attack came in.

That was three hours ago. Now he sat high in the copula of the K2's turret with his binoculars glued to his face, studying the enemy advance to the north east. The aliens were pounding the remains of Nanjing to the north. The 'southern capital', with its population of seven million, was already suffering a massacre worse than the one that the Japanese had inflicted upon the city a little less than a century ago. From scattered rumors and second-hand reports he had heard the alien-devil soldiers had already broken into the city and fierce street-fighting was raging for every block. The rumors also said that the alien-devils had dropped all the Nanjing bridges across the Yangtze and trapped an entire Group Army along its western shore. Cas believed what he heard.

No place for him in fighting like that, he told himself. Cas could only think of one place he should be: at the trigger of his tank's cannon, aiming it down the throat of one of the enemy's deadly dragon-walkers. They had come to represent all the evil that the aliens had brought with them to Earth. In Cas's mind their greatest sin had been the unprovoked murder of his wife and daughter even though logic told him his loved ones were probably killed by one of the alien-devils' orbiting starships that had bombarded Beijing. But those ships were beyond his reach. The dragon-walkers weren't.

Cas didn't sleep much. Not many of his fellow soldiers found peace in the midst of this never-ending battle, but when he did rest he saw the faces of his family. They looked troubled and angry, as if they blamed him for their deaths. As a father and a husband he was supposed to have protected them. The nightmares always ended the same, with his wife and daughter being crushed underneath the giant feet of one of the gray dragon-walkers just as it looked down at him and fired its horrible, flesh-searing lasers into him.

When he was awake he felt as if he were already dead. He stumbled everywhere he walked. His body ached and trembled whenever he sat still, which was often. He spent a large chunk of his time staring at the advancing enemy as they made their way slowly up the Yangtze River valley. He hardly ever ducked or jumped from near misses from the enemy's artillery or lasers anymore. Cas no longer feared death. He had accepted that he wasn't going to make it out of this battle alive and he was alright with that.

His only fear was that he wouldn't avenge his family and give them the head of a dragon to present to their ancestors. It was the only thing he could do to regain his lost honor after failing to protect his family.

Cas realized that his mind was wandering, a mistake that could wind up getting him killed, and brought it back to the here and now. He was hidden away in a small copse of trees that, miraculously, had not burned down like so many others. His three tanks were covered in cut branches that masked their outlines and their engines had been left off to conserve precious fuel and cool their heat signatures.

He had been eating a half-cooked chicken as he studied a trio of dragon-walkers about four kilometers to the north. He thought they were acting strangely, or at least differently from others he'd seen. He threw the chicken bones off the side of his track and pulled his gas mask back over his face. His stomach grumbled less as it digested the cold meat. Cas didn't notice. The smoke of the battlefield was usually enough to interfere with keeping the alien machines under constant observation but the wind shifted and Cas couldn't keep his eyes off of the alien war machines.

Two of the dragon-walkers seemed to be in an over watch formation, while the third seemed to be struggling against something that Cas couldn't see. He adjusted the settings on his binoculars to try to see what was affecting the lumbering machine.

The walker kept lifting its forward right leg as if it were attempting to take a step forward and after that was unsuccessful it would put the leg back where it started and then try the same thing with its opposite leg. After several failed attempts it tried instead to back up but had the same issue with its rear appendages.

He squinted through the smoke, looking for an answer to his unspoken question, when Wen, the gunner, in the loader's hatch next to him spoke up. "Wires, sir. It's entangled."

"What?" Cas silently cursed the youthful tanker and his keen eyes.

"Do you see that wreckage on the far side of the left-most dragon-walker, to her rear? That's an electrical tower of some sort." The gunner said, pointing with his empty hand, while keeping his own set of optics pressed firmly to his gas-mask covered face. Cas knew the man's eyes were stinging just as badly as his own. The crewman was dirty and unshaven, which prevented the mask from finding a secure seal. Cas knew his face was the same. The PLA had saturated the battlefield with chemical weapons as they fell back. Winds had blown those weapons across both sides equally.

"Yeah, I see it. Curse the devils. They must have plowed right through one of our surviving electrical grids without even knowing. They look like they're stuck in place. Wish we could call in an air-strike, Wen." Cas mused.

"We could, sir. But whether or not one would ever go in is anybody's guess. Our transmission would probably be jammed or worse, tracked back to us, and then the alien artillery would give us a present. Or more likely we don't have any planes in the area. I certainly haven't seen any of ours for the past few days. Or maybe they would come but all of them could be lost to the 'flying eyeballs'." The gunner sighed with resignation.

"Be careful what you say. Someone could report you for defeatism to the _Guoanbu."_Cas warned.

Wen sucked in a breath and then peered back inside the turret to see if the driver had been listening. The _Guokia Anquan Bu _was no laughing matter. They had taken to shooting Chinese soldiers in boxcar lots for retreating from the battlefield. The Ministry of State Security would put you in front of a firing squad in no time if they thought that you didn't believe in China's inevitable victory.

"Easy, I'm not going to say anything." Cas told the gunner, who looked relieved. Of course ,now the gunner now had something over Cas's head should the need present itself, but that mattered little to Cas.

He continued to study the oddly named Ay-Tee-Ay-Tees of the enemy. The alien-devils had snapped a few of the cables with its legs but there was now an alien soldier dangling from the walker. Cas watched as the wires fell away from the beast's legs and dropped to the ground. Evidently the soldier was wielding a pair of large wire cutters.

"What do you think cables would have to be made of to completely ensnare a dragon-walker?" He wondered aloud.

"Steel might do the trick. If it's diameter was large enough. I'm not sure what those electrical cables are made of. Copper and rubber if I had to guess." The gunner answered. "The trick would be getting it on one of them on the move. If they stop then they'll just dispatch some poor soldier on a rope like that to cut the wires away."

Cas thought about that. It made sense. Luckily the dragon-walkers were at the tip of every Imperial advance. Maybe they could lay an ambush in on one of them. "Wouldn't be hard to deliver a wire. Maybe get one behind a Harbin Z-11, anchor it somehow to the walker, and then the helicopter can swirl around the walker quickly enough that the walker doesn't notice."

"I don't know, sir. I'd notice one of those squirrels flying around our tank even if we were buttoned up. And if one of those walkers has a buddy then his friend is going to shoot the pest right off of him."

Cas decided that the gunner was a pessimist.

"I heard some Z-9s got in close enough to land on a dragon-walker's back somewhere outside of Changzhou. Commandos were able to get inside the walker." Cas was only repeating a rumor he had picked up during his time in the infantry during another retreat. No one knew if it was true because no one had returned from that particular attack.

"Brave soldiers. If that story is true then they all deserve the Hero's Medal."

Cas agreed. Even if the story wasn't true it still gave the average Chinese soldier hope. In this war that was something that was in short supply.

Outside of Shanghai hope had almost become a forbidden thing.

After weeks of constant combat the slightest noise or flicker of motion drew Cas's complete and, he was too proud to admit fearful, attention. His head whipped around at something he saw in the corner of his eye. This time it was a leaf fluttering to the ground. This time.

A squad of infantry was posted on a swell of ground a hundred meters in front of Cas's tanks. One of the infantrymen turned and motioned frantically. That signal only meant one thing: alien devils advancing across the rice paddies to the east of them. Cas's testicles tried to crawl up into his belly. The gunner looked at him.

"We must try." Cas said, "For China."

_For my family_, he thought.

"For China." Wen answered. He dogged his hatch shut and crawled back into the gunner's position below Cas. Cas looked at his commo gear, which had instructions scrawled in Korean across the controls, none of which he had been able to decipher in the few hours he had had this track. He leaned down into the turret and yelled at the driver situated in the forward hull underneath the main gun. "Move out to the prepared position!"

The 12-cylinder water-cooled diesel came to life before the entire tank lurched forward. Cas stood in the turret and used signal flags to order the other two tanks to move up to their primary firing positions.

The green and brown camouflaged K2 slowly rumbled forward along with her sisters. In slots dug into the reverse slope of the rise, they exposed only the tops of their turrets to the enemy. Cas stood up in the cupola and peered ahead with his field glasses. Shrubs tied to his tanker's helmet broke up his outline and he shielded his binoculars with his free hand so no sun reflected off of its lenses.

Sure enough there were alien-devils, twelve or fourteen of their floating tanks worth. They were being screened by a scouting party of four of the bipedal walkers that everyone called chicken-walkers. The scouts were on the far side of the rice paddy and were unaware of Cas's presence on the ridge on their flank. More floating vehicles were scurrying up to support the tanks. Cas recognized them as the ones the Empire used as troop carriers. They were seemed to be similar to the Type 89 AFVs the PLA used, only more dangerous, and they could fight Cas's tanks on pretty much even grounds.

The aliens were trundling happily past his strong point, no more than five hundred meters away, without the slightest notion that he was here. He glanced over at the other two tank commanders, who were watching him from their own cupolas. He held up one finger. Both men waved that they understood. Hanging around for more than one shot at the alien-devils was an invitation to your own funeral.

He ducked back inside the turret and closed the hatch behind him. He scanned for his target through the tank commander's sites. "That one, Wen." he quietly told the gunner. "Armor-piercing."

The auto-loader next to him pulled a round from its ammo-rack and shoved it into place. The breach block slammed into place and the weapon was ready to go.

The gunner traversed the turret a few degrees so it bore on the troop carrier. He took his eyes off of his gunsight for a second to make sure Cas was clear of the gun's recoil, then looked back and squeezed the trigger at almost the same time.

The cannon roared. Through his sights Cas saw a hole appear in the troop carrier's flank. "Hit!" he shrieked. The carrier slewed sideways before it plowed into the mud and water of the rice paddy with a huge splash and came to a stop. It was burning. A hatch came down in the rear and white camouflaged devils started bailing out. Chinese foot soldiers opened up on them, picking them off as they emerged.

"Back!" Cas shouted. If he waited around to see how the infantry did, one of those alien tanks would blow him to bits. Already with terrifying speed their turrets were traversing to bear on his position. The driver jammed the K2 into reverse. It jounced down the low slope, as did the Type 95 on his left. But the one on his right was too slow. A huge laser tore through the unlucky tank's front glacis plate. Cas watched in dismay as the turret flew off and crushed an infantryman who was scrambling to get out of the way.

One of the things he had learned while fighting the aliens was to have more than one fighting position available whenever he could. His second one was at the base of the rise.

"Maybe we'll give them a surprise, Colonel." The gunner said. The auto-loader had another armor-piercing sabot round loaded. The 120mm main gun bore on the place the alien tanks were likeliest to breast the rise.

A couple of foot soldiers dashed forward with satchel charges. That meant the floating tanks were close, then. Machine guns chattered furiously. An explosion sent up smoke and dirt, then another. Cas hoped those brave men hadn't thrown away their lives for nothing.

Then he had no time for hope or fear as a floating tank nosed over the horizon right where he thought it would. The K2's cannon roared as he drew in breath to yell, "Fire!"

The AP round flew straight into the middle of the tiny belly plate the enemy tank exposed as it came over the rise. The force field that extended around the beasts normally shrugged off the high-velocity 120mm sabot rounds. The shield, as Cas had hoped, was much thinner underneath the enemy tank, much like the armor on Earth-based tanks.

The shell pierced it. The floating tank stopped and slammed to the ground. They'll have to take the driver out of there with a ladle, Cas thought.

An alien-devil popped out of the turret and started to turn toward his own side. The coax machine gun from Cas's tank cut him down before he took two steps.

The surviving Type 95 had done almost as well as Cas's track. Its first shot had hit the knee joint of a chicken-walker. The two-legged walker swerved out of control. A foot soldier ran up to it and threw a fragmentation grenade into one of its open eye ports and its small blast was followed an instant later by a bigger one as the walker's ammunition cooked off.

"Back again!" Cas shouted at the driver. They'd hurt the alien-devils but that wouldn't mean much if they wound up dead . . . as they probably would as soon as another floating tank made it onto the reverse slope of the little rise. "Get us out of here!"

The diesel engine roared as the driver obeyed. Cas popped back up into the cupola for a better view of the battlefield. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades. If one of the alien laser shells got him he'd be dead too fast to know it.

He looked back toward the rise. If his tank could make it over the next one before the aliens climbed this one and spotted him they really did have a chance to get away. He wouldn't have believed it when the engagement started but it was true. He felt a surge of pride. His soldiers had hurt the alien-devils and not many units could boast of that. We might even do it again, he thought.

Three floating tanks came over the rise when Cas's tank was only halfway up the next slope. A turret swung his way. His eyes went up to the sky, seeking, praying for another miracle. But the Buddha he no longer believed in wasn't with them today. The floating tank never even slowed down to fire.

Less than a heartbeat after its big cannon spat a green-hued laser bolt, Cas felt the mother of all kicks in the ass. His borrowed Korean tank, which had served him so well during the engagement, died under him. Smoke poured up through the engine vents of the rear deck.

"Out! Out! Out!" He screamed. He had almost cracked his head on the commander's scope. Only two armored walls and the full weight of the engine had kept the enemy laser out of the fighting compartment. But once the fire got going nothing would hold that at bay.

Laser machine gun bullets in green and red stitched the air around him as he pulled himself out of the cupola and dove into the tall grass in front of the copse of trees they had hidden in earlier. Other hatches popped open. His crew began bailing out with him. An enemy laser struck home with a sickening noise like a firecracker fizzling in water. Someone shrieked.

The clean, wet smell of the grass through which he scrambled filled his nostrils. He had somewhat contradictory goals. He wanted to put the hulk of the killed K2 between himself and the oncoming floating tanks but he also wanted to get as far away from that hulk, and the alien-devils, as he could. The HEAT rounds in the K2 Black Panther were going to start cooking off any second now and the alien-devils were not likely to be well-disposed to any Chinese tankers, especially a crew that had managed to destroy one of their fancy machines.

Another laser shell slammed into the K2. It went up with a roar. Cas thought that was wasteful on their part considering the K2 was already scrap metal. Meanwhile, machine gun lasers probed the grass and leaves of the nearby trees. They made tiny, whispering zing-zing noises as they clipped the leaves. Cas wondered what sort of noise they would make when they clipped him.

An alien tank floated past, fewer than fifty meters off. Cas lay face down and unmoving. If the enemy saw him maybe they would think he was already dead. From his prone position he marveled that not only was the alien tank faster than his old Type 99 and the K2, it was ghost-quiet to boot.

Somewhere a few hundred meters away a QJY-88 machine gun began to bark. Bullets ricocheted off of the force field of the alien tank. Its laser machine gun returned fire. The tank itself turned toward the Chinese machine gun position.

As he crawled in the opposite direction Cas almost bumped into his gunner, Wen. After an instant of fright, the two men grinned at each other under their protective masks. "Good to see you, Sir." the gunner said through his gasmask.

"And you." Cas answered. "Have you seen Wu?" Cas asked about their driver.

Wen shook his head. "He didn't make it out."

That was the shriek, then, Cas thought. "Amazingly lucky that we didn't go up when the K2 was hit."

Wen surprised him by laughing. "Luck had nothing to do with it, Sir. Wu told me we were almost out of petrol for that Korean piece of shit. Only had enough for another kilometer or two."

"Oh," Cas said. He started to laugh himself, though it wasn't really funny. Here he had just fought what had to have been one of the most successful small-unit actions ever against the alien-devils, and to what result? Only the final destruction of another tank unit under his command. How many more actions like that could the PLA take before there wasn't a PLA anymore?

For that matter the action wasn't even over. The aliens had infantry of their own that had been moving up with their tanks. Cas had a pistol that he hadn't fired in weeks and that had been at a crippled alien that had been lying wounded at his feet. Wen was clutching his personal JS 9mm submachine gun. Their weapons were better than nothing but neither of them had the range to make proper infantry weapons.

"What now, sir?" Wen asked.

"We get out of here." The alien soldiers were sure to start searching these woods any minute. Cas lead the way out of the small woods. They ran hunched over at the waist, ready to throw themselves to the ground at the slightest hint of danger. Behind them he heard the aliens' strange, electronically amplified voices entering the tree line. His heart beat faster.

They reached the far tree line and were greeted with the sight of a kilometer wide rice paddy. If they tried to run across it they would be spotted by their pursuers within minutes. If they stayed where they were and waited they would provide nothing more than a moment of target practice for the alien-devils.

Cas weighed his options. He had lost his field glasses when he had abandoned the K2 but he could just make out the other side of the field. Through the smoke of the battlefield he spotted a destroyed farmhouse that was still sending up a small column of smoke. The farmhouse was surrounded by another small, wooded area, though some of those trees appeared charred as well. Other than that he couldn't spot another safe haven in any direction.

"Into the water. The smoke will block us." Cas ordered as he slid down the muddy embankment that sloped into the cratered field. The water in the paddy was knee deep, which was much deeper than Cas had suspected but more than sufficient for their needs. He hadn't expected it to be so cold this late in the spring but there was nothing he could do about it. Placing his pistol in his hand he submerged his body except for his head and started crawling towards the other side.

Wen was right beside him. "What if they have thermal sites, Colonel? This smoke won't matter then."

"The water should help. The more distance we put between us the harder it will be for them to spot us. Keep moving." Cas urged.

It was maybe five minutes later that Cas heard a disturbance behind him. Through the water he reached out and grabbed Wen to stop his forward motion. They came to a stop in an area of several large reeds which, along with the camouflage they had added to their helmets, helped to break up their silhouettes.

They had put a hundred yard between themselves and the wooded area. Cas turned back the way they came, only his nose and eyes above the water. Along the embankment a dozen alien soldiers patrolled back and forth. Thankfully, none of them seemed to be looking in Wen and Cas's direction at the moment. But he knew that could change any moment.

One of the soldiers was taking tentative steps into the edge of the water. A private, no doubt, Cas thought. Another soldier yelled encouragement at the alien-devil. Cas figured the other alien to be some sort of junior NCO due to the orange pauldron he sported on his left shoulder. Cas watched as they argued about going further into the field. If they did he and Wen were dead men.

The alien NCO relented and the other soldier climbed back up the embankment. The alien non-commissioned officer stared out over the rice paddy for a long time. Cas held his breath. Eventually the alien must have decided that there wasn't anything out here that was worth investigation. He held up a hand and signaled towards the trees. A few seconds later a squad's worth of armored aliens emerged from the woods. They spaced themselves apart in a loose formation and made their way slowly north along the tree line.

Cas stayed motionless and waited for them to disappear. It took nearly fifteen minutes for the aliens to vanish to the north. By then Cas's muscles had started to cramp up from the chill of the water. He motioned for Wen to move out and the two of them continued to crawl east towards the distant refuge ahead.

Halfway across they witnessed the death of Nanjing. It had started like a distant thunderstorm except the lightning that fell to their north didn't race across the sky like a normal electrical storm. Instead it came down in straight lines, hitting the same spot time after time. It reminded Cas of when the aliens had wiped Changzhou off of the map at the beginning of their drive out of Shanghai. Now they were unleashing a new hell on the Group Army that was trapped inside Nanjing.

Though Cas didn't think the aliens dropped a nuclear bomb on the place, nonetheless, a few minutes after the orbital attack a large mushroom cloud was clawing its way into the sky over Nanjing. Cas silently cursed the alien-devils to the hell of Diyu a hundred more times as he crept through the cold and muddy field.

It took them two hours to reach the far shore. Twice they had to stop when alien flying motorcycles made appearances. The whining machines over flew the rice paddies so quickly that they left a wake in their passing. The alien scouts moved much too fast to notice the two tankers covered in mud and soaked to the bone. Once they were in the trees they spent another two hours in the burnt out ruins of the farmhouse trying to dry off. They were shivering but knew they couldn't start a fire because it would draw down enemy patrols like moths.

"We can't stay here, Colonel. There's no food and the alien-devils will find us before too long. This ruin isn't much of a shelter. What should we do?" Wen asked.

"We'll wait until nightfall and then move east. The army was still holding the Ningwu Expressway the last I heard. That's only about five or six kilometers away. It should only take us a couple hours if we don't run into any of the aliens." Cas said.

Wen shrugged, willing to go along with Cas's plan for lack of anything better to do. As long as they were heading east and away from the enemy he was happy. The aliens were probably too busy dealing with Nanjing tonight to be concerned with the areas to their south. Tomorrow that might be a different story.

The sun had barely gone down when the two tankers left the shelter of the farmhouse. Fires on every horizon, especially to the north, lit their journey. The detritus of war surrounded them: Chinese jet fighters plunged into the ground, the burned out wreckage of PLA armored vehicles of every make and model, the bloated corpses of men and animals. The land was cratered from Chinese artillery and horribly burnt from the guns of the alien-devils.

They carefully picked over the battered ground, mindful of mines and munitions left behind by both sides. The Empire possessed several diabolical types of land mines, including one that engulfed you in flames while another type that shot out a stream of laser flechettes like an American claymore. However deadly, the aliens seemed to have made their anti-vehicle mines calibrated for their own floating vehicles and thus they were rare on the battlefield. The PLA had had no compunctions and laid down minefields by the thousands to slow the Empire. Cas doubted the plan had worked as expected. It just made for a more harrowing journey for him and Wen.

They heard the clamor of their own Army long before they ever came within sight of it. Just north of Maanshan they crested a ridge that overlooked the Ningwu Expressway. Below them the roadway was crowded with thousands of Chinese soldiers, sailors and marines heading south. Though not quite a rout Cas recognized a disorganized retreat when he saw one.

The two tankers slid down the slope below them till they came to the shoulder of the roadway. No one challenged them, which Cas saw as poor security or total lack of any command and control element in this mob. A large SX2190 truck wailed its horn against the tide of humanity surging around it. The truck was filled with wounded soldiers and inched forward in the midst of the roadway. Dozens of other trucks and vehicles had been shoved to the side of the expressway or left unoccupied in the center of the roadway. Cas assumed they had run out of petrol and then abandoned. A team of draft horses strained against their harnesses as they drug a 152mm howitzer past the two tankers. Many of the soldiers who went past were heavily bandaged or burnt. Scores of them were unarmed. Perhaps they had lost their weapons in the fight or worse, thrown them away when they had fled to save their own skins.

"Let's see if we can find someone who knows what is going on." Cas told Wen.

"Yes, sir."

"Stick close to me. If we get separated I don't think I'll ever be able to find you in this mess again." Cas said. Wen's face was locked in an expression worn by every enlisted man since Alexander the Great's Greek army, the look that said losing an officer didn't sound like such a bad idea.

They plunged into the crowd, narrowly missing being flattened by a Chinese-made humvee that was barreling up the shoulder. The utility vehicle was towing a battered light anti-aircraft gun.

"Asshole is going to run somebody over driving like that." Cas said.

"Probably already has. Bet it didn't slow him down one bit either. Nobody wants to stick around and end up like that." Wen pointed north to the bright glow on the horizon that was all that remained of Nanjing.

Wen was probably right. Cas saw a soldier wearing sergeant's stripes and the markings of a signal unit. Cas grabbed the man by the arm and roughly spun him around. The soldier looked like he was about to swing away and belt Cas until he noticed Cas's rank insignia.

"Sir. Beg your pardon, but what the fuck do you want, sir." The sergeant didn't even bother with a salute. His eyes kept darting to the south and Cas felt as if he might run away at any second.

"Sergeant, what's happened? Where is everyone going?"

"What happened? Nanjing happened. The alien-devils blew it up. And the whole 16thand 52nd Group Armies with it." The sergeant angrily reported.

The NCO's words hit him like a fist to the gut. He had seen it happen but hadn't wanted to believe it. Two more Group Armies were simply erased from existence. He didn't want to guess how many soldiers China had lost holding out against the alien-devils since they had advanced from Shanghai.

___Millions,_ his mind screamed.

"Where is everyone going? Is there a new defensive line to the south? Maybe at Maanshan?"

"Maanshan? Are you crazy, sir?" The sergeant looked at Cas as if the armored officer was a lunatic. "Too close to Nanjing. The aliens will be there in the morning. Nothing can stop that! Nothing!" The sergeant's voice became angry.

"Where is everyone going then? We must be planning on holding the enemy somewhere. Dangtuis south of Maanshan right?" Cas was doing his best not to lose control of his own rising anger and frustration. He wanted to get back into the fight but going north was suicide. His best bet for revenge was getting another tank under him.

"Dangtu is against the river like Maanshan and Nanjing are, or was. But the alien-devils bombed the bridges there. There is a bridge further south at Wuhu that the aliens haven't dropped and the army engineers haven't blown up yet. I've got to go, sir. If I don't make it to that bridge by sun up it'll be gone." The sergeant didn't even wait to be dismissed. He just turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Cas turned to Wen. "South then."

"Sounds good, Colonel. If there really is a bridge at Wuhu it'll be nice to get the Yangtze between us and the invaders." Wen was already starting forward.

Cas walked alongside his gunner. Through the night it was an effort to keep together but they managed. They passed through Maanshan a little before midnight. The city was aflame, not just from enemy bombing and long-distance artillery fire that was already probing the riverside city, but from the PLA itself. Engineers and sappers were setting ablaze anything that looked like it could be of use to the advancing Imperials. That included the multitude of abandoned vehicles that were strewn along the column fleeing south. Cas at first thought that was foolish as the flames illuminated the column for Imperial night bombers but he realized there were already enough fires burning across the battlefield that it hardly made a difference. The 'flying eyeballs', for their part, were too concentrated on finishing off Nanjing to pay much attention to the ruined army fleeing to their south.

The Yangtze River flowed south to north in this part of China. The natural barrier was too wide even for the alien's dragon-walkers from what Cas remembered from Shanghai. If the PLA had any chance for mounting another defense it would have to be on the western shore of one of Earth's widest rivers. And the only way he knew of to cross it was a bridge that may or may not be there when he arrived. The word of a panicking signalman who had been kilometers from this rumored salvation wasn't much to go on.

Still, on and on they went. Never resting. Cas felt blisters forming in his tanker boots. The few soldiers they spoke with all believed there would be a bridge at Wuhu. Every survivor was focused on it.

At Dangtu, hours later, Wen and Cas came across a tanker truck that had been hauling fresh water. They pushed and elbowed their way to the front of the mob surrounding the truck. Cas had long lost his canteen but managed to get several palmfulls of the precious liquid before Wen found a cup somewhere and shared it with Cas. Cas was hungry, too, but there was no food in Dangtu so he ignored his growling stomach and kept walking.

They were halway through Dangtu when they finally ran into the ___Guoanbu._ The state security soldiers watched the passing column from both sides of the expressway. From what Cas could see there were only a dozen or so of them supported by several squads of military field police. The ___Guoanbu,_ for the most part, stayed behind sandbagged bunkers, with machine guns menacingly pointed at the retreat. The MPs helped direct traffic to the south. Cas wondered how long it would be before the security soldiers tucked their own tails between their legs and joined the flood.

The ___Guoanbu_ stared at the crowd in frustrated misery, as if aching for an excuse to turn their machine guns on the fleeing mob. Evidently someone had passed on a set of orders for the army to retreat or the state security men would be greeting the evacuation in an entirely different manner.

"You, there. You, Colonel." A ___Guoanbu_ officer came rushing out of a nearby bunker. Cas sighed, hoping he could make it past the bunkers and machine guns and continue south with the tens of thousands around him. Any delay caused the night to inch that much closer to sunrise and Cas had hoped to be across the bridge by then. Sunrise would bring with it not only a stifling heat that would heap more misery onto the march, but also 'flying eyeball' bombers. The alien pilots would have to be blind and stupid to pass up a target like this packed mass of refugees.

Now this fool of a security officer was trying to crush that hope. "What is it . . ." Cas noticed the soldier's insignia for the first time. He also noticed that this was the first time he had ever seen a ___Guoanbu_ whose uniform was dirty and unkempt and whose face was unshaven. Usually the ___Guoanbu_ were lauded as the immaculate embodiment of what every Chinese soldier should strive to be. The one coming at him right now had evidently been through the ringer just like the rest of the PLA, ". . . Lieutenant?"

"Colonel . . ." The junior officer paused for Cas to offer his name as he came to a halt. Wen looked at Cas with eager eyes that pleaded for him not to dither in such a place. Wuhu was still a long way off.

"Just Colonel for now." Cas offered, seeing no reason to introduce himself. There was security in anonymity. "What is it? I have to report to my unit." He wanted the security man to think he had a reason to be fleeing south and not just one of the scared, mindless rabble that continued to swarm south around them.

"You are the first senior officer I have seen in several hours. All of my commanders fled south after dusk and left me in charge of this checkpoint. I need you to see something, sir." The lieutenant said.

Cas didn't have time for this but he couldn't risk pissing off the ___Guoanbu_ either. It was nothing for them to walk him behind their bunker and place a noodle in his brain. He'd heard stories that they loved to execute any superior officers they found in their grasp.

Cas felt his heart beating faster. Would his own country rob him of his revenge against the aliens? He had no choice but to see how this played out. "Wen, go ahead, I'll catch up in a little bit." He hoped he had at least saved the life of his gunner. Wen nodded in understanding and then disappeared back into the flood. Cas doubted he'd ever see him again. "Lieutenant, lead on."

"This way, sir. Don't worry. This isn't what you think."

The junior officer led the way back past the sandbags into a waist high trench system. They passed several abandoned anti-aircraft batteries before reaching a shed. The shed was guarded by two military police privates. Cas looked around for the mass open graves one would expect with security soldiers but didn't see any. He thought it was a good sign that the lieutenant seemed uninterested in taking Cas's sidearm as well.

The ___Guoanbu_ officer opened the shed and shined a light inside. Inside the cramped space was a man in handcuffs. The man was bruised and cut in several places and was sporting an ugly black eye. He wore a strange black coverall with shiny black boots and gloves. On his chest he wore an odd sort of control panel with several hose connections. At first glance the man had the pinched look of someone from Hong Kong or Gaungzhou. Definitely a southerner, he figured. Cas was confused.

"The soldiers who captured him and brought him to us said he was also wearing this." The lieutenant held up a black helmet that was designed to cover the man's entire head. It became clear to Cas in an instant. This man was a devil.

"You said he was captured but he looks like he could pass for a Cantonese just like you or me. Does he speak Mandarin or Cantonese?" Cas asked pushing aside a rage that was rising within him.

"Neither. He's fluent in English though. He's spoken a little of it to me."

"Has he told you anything? Does he know when his army is turning south? Just who the fuck is this guy?"

"He hasn't told us shit. And believe me we did our best to persuade him." The lieutenant smirked. Cas believed him. If even half the rumors about the ___Guoanbu_ were to be believed the alien had had a rough time of it. "We think he flew one of those 'flying eyeball' bombers. He mentioned having another pilot with him who died."

"What the fuck do you want me to do with him?" Cas asked in annoyance.

"I was hoping you could tell me. I don't have the authority to order a termination of an enemy prisoner and don't have the men to guard him until we can find someone who does. You've seen what's going on out on the road. My men and I want to join it as soon as we can but we can't just leave this alien-devil here without an interrogation or orders." The ___Guoanbu_ actually seemed to be pleading with Cas.

"Can you translate for me?" Cas asked.

"Yes, that is no problem."

Cas looked at the alien. The enemy pilot evidently had figured out that Cas was someone with some sort of authority. "I don't care about your name, rank, or serial number. You are a bomber pilot, yes?"

Cas waited for the translation. "Yes, so what. Dodged one of your poodoo- I believe this means shit- missiles and flew right into one of your anti-. . .um, he says the word is airspeeder, which I guess is aircraft . . . thrower of slugs. Which means guns in his language, I think." The lieutenant translated as best he could.

"Why are you Chinese and yet fight for the alien-devils?" Cas asked. He had seen other aliens up close. None of them still breathing but that didn't make a difference. This was the first one who looked like he came right off of a PLA recruitment poster.

"He says he's not an aboriginal. That's what they call us. He's something called a Tapani. He also says that is all he is going to tell us and then he made some comment about how we can fornicate with each other for all he cares. It was tough to translate with his slang words." the lieutenant said.

"That's fine. That's all I want to hear from him. Lieutenant, you can consider him interrogated." Cas sighed. He was anxious to get back on the road again but his sense of vengeance also wanted to see this out to the end.

"Your orders for the deployment of the prisoner, sir?" The ___Guoanbu_ inquired.

Cas had never thought he'd be able to kill an unarmed, helpless man in cold blood. But then again he had also never thought that his unarmed, helpless family would be murdered by aliens. Aliens like this man in front of him.

He felt nothing as he said, "Dispose of him. Somewhere the Imperials won't find the body."

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant motioned for the two policemen to come forward. The two soldiers grabbed the prisoner under the armpits and half carried and half drug the alien around the shed. Cas followed out of morbid curiosity and a sense of duty to see his orders carried out.

Behind the shed someone had dug a grave. There was a pile of dirt beside it with several shovels sticking out of it. The two privates stood the alien up in front of the grave so that he would fall forward when shot. The alien-devil had to know what was coming next. He glared at Cas and spat at the ground in front of the tanker's boots.

The lieutenant unclipped his sidearm from its holster and withdrew his weapon. At this close range Cas assumed the security officer would place the pistol to the alien's temple and fire. But the Lieutenant hesitated.

A quick death was more than the alien-devil deserved. Cas reached out and touched the lieutenant's arm, stopping him from raising his weapon. He wanted this alien to feel its death. He wanted it to suffer, just like its kind had made China suffer. Like they had made Cas suffer.

"I'll do it."

The young lieutenant nodded in understanding.

Cas removed his own weapon from its holster and aimed the pistol at the alien's stomach. It suddenly struck Cas that he would never again look into his beloved wife's eyes. Blind rage surged through his veins. At the last minute he swung the weapon downwards and discharged it twice.

The alien-devil's kneecaps exploded. The Tapani or whatever he was shrieked in pain and fell forewards into the open grave. He moaned as he lay writhing on the floor of the pit. The two privates ran forward and grabbed shovels. They started shoveling dirt back into the hole.

The lieutenant joined them, but he stopped after throwing a spade full of earth on top of the still-living alien. He grabbed another shovel and handed it outwards toward Cas. "It'll go faster if you help, Colonel."

Cas didn't say anything. The smoking gun was still in his hand. He put it away as he took the spade. He wanted the alien to suffer as he was suffocated from the weight of the dirt piling down on top of him.

"I must go." Cas finally said when they were finished.

The lieutenant nodded. "Good luck to you, Colonel. If you can, get across the Yangtze. Orders are for the army to reform and set up a new defensive line on the western shore."

The lieutenant started to offer his hand for a handshake but Cas just looked at him without moving. He didn't think congratulations were in order over this bloody mess. If anyone ever heard about it they'd be damn pissed off that they didn't turn over the alien. The ___Guoanbu_ must have understood that. Maybe that was why he never pushed for Cas's name.

In the end the lieutenant saluted.

The lieutenant turned out to have a set of horses that he and his men rode to the south on. Cas hoped he never came across them again.

Colonel Loi Cas made his way back to the column. He felt the adrenaline leave his body. He was surprised he had any adrenaline left. The weight of lossing his family was still with him, he was surprised that it seemed to intensify. He was exhausted both mentally and physically but he was still hours from his goal. To stop now was to die. So he placed one foot in front of the other and marched. He turned off his mind to all thoughts except for those of his wife and daughter. With those haunting memories the kilometers passed by.

He didn't talk to the thousands of soldiers around him. There was barely more than a whisper uttered as the column eked its way south. His feet bled and sweat soaked his uniform as the miles slowly gave way.

The horizon was turning gray when he saw the burning skyline of Wuhu. The Yangtze was polluted and choked with small boats and wreckage. He saw dozens of 'flying eyeballs' circling overhead, their bombs slowly falling into both the city and river, erupting in geysers of earth and water.

The column became a rout at that point when the thousands of soldiers saw the river ahead of them. They panicked and ran for the city. Horses and trucks trampled soldiers too slow to move out of the way. Several shots rang out as any sense of order quickly collapsed.

As the crowd parted he finally got a good look at the city's riverfront and realized what had caused the panic. Something in his heart died.

There were no more bridges at Wuhu.

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Reviewing is the will of the Force


	57. Act 5 Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

**Hydian Way Cantina, Screed & Romodi Power and Recycling District, Culter City, Imperial Mars**

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Brakatak loved Culter City. It was a boom town like nothing he had ever experienced back in the Old Empire. Construction and industry were going full out like a greased Dug. Wages were hyperjumping so high that everything a being's heart reasonably desired was readily within his reach.

Everything, that was, except spice.

The big Gran had already sold the meager supply of glitterstim they had pirated from the Ugnaughts last month to several high-roller clients for twenty times its roadway value back in the Home Galaxy. Now that those glitbiters were nearly finished getting glittered as high as a rainbow they wanted something new to feed their habit. Brakatak kicked himself for not waiting another year to sell, when roadway value would have been a hundred times what it was now.

Now they had a new problem, there wasn't any new spice anywhere to be found. What the beings of _Tarkin's Fist_ carried with them was the extent of the spice supply in the local system and that supply had dwindled to nothing. Brakatak believed that most of the varieties of spice were gone forever. Spice simply didn't grow on trees, it had to be mined. The main sources had been Kessel, Sevarcos II and Ryloth, places which were now beyond the reach of any being from Tarkin's Fist. Brakatak had asked around and interviewed dozens of miners working out in the Phasma Belt if they had come across even a trace amount of spice. All of his inquiries had been dead ends.

Imperial Mars was becoming a sobering place to live. He snorted at the thought as the bartender, a large, serpentine Thisspiasian, filled up his tumbler of Corellian Thunder Whiskey. He turned his attention back to the main stage of the cantina where a pair of yellow Twilek girls danced to the accompaniment of the house's Bith band. They held tiny castanets and had bells attached to what little clothing they still wore, which added to the cacophony that filled the cantina.

He'd heard someone was gonna clone a whole cruiser of Twileks, like they did with those colonists around Earth 2, and send them to some planet outside of the local system. Brakatak liked the idea. They could always use more of the beautiful tail-heads around. He was just frustrated that no one could clone spice. If he could figure out a method, or hell even find a new motherload of spice, he'd be a billionaire within a week.

It wasn't fair. That odd Moff Culter was cloning every kind of plant under the core. It was one of the reasons alcohol was still readily available. Fields of crops surrounded Culter City for thousands of kilometers in every direction. Beyond them cloned animals filled the Martian plains and waterways. The Anoat Moff was clone-crazy and Brakatak wouldn't be surprised if one of these days the idiot cloned a rancor or something worse. It seemed the only thing he couldn't clone was a rock. Brakatak sighed and tried to drown his sorrow in his drink.

"Heard you've got a spicy problem, my friend."

Brakatak turned to the human male who was sitting down on the stool next to him. He hadn't even noticed the man sit down. Brakatak sized up the newcomer in a glance. He was dressed in spacer's clothes but Brakatak could see in his eyes that he was ex-military of some sort, probably a veteran of the Clone Wars, or some kind of ex-sepper merc. The human leaned back against the bar with both elbows propped up on its grimy surface. He chewed on a plastoid toothpick and avoided Brakatak's gaze, choosing to pretend that he was more interested in the dancing Twileks.

"Oh, yeah? And where did you come across that bit of information, friend?" Brakatak asked.

"Ran into a fishy friend of yours at the Long Jump a couple of hours ago. Little guy was trying not to look too obvious but it was pretty clear he was looking for a new spice supply."

Brakatak sighed and shook his head. Frip never could keep his gills shut. "So what if I am? What's it to you?"

"Not a whole lot. Just figured me and you could come to some kind of mutual arrangement, tri-clops."

The hairs on Brakatak's hair bristled at the slur. There was something about this spacer scum he didn't quite trust. "So you got some kind of spice claim you want to sell me? You're not dealing with some Outer Rim nerf-herder fresh off the moisture farm, you know."

The human laughed, "No, I haven't got a mine for sale. As far as I can tell, spice as you and I know it simply isn't here in the local system. Nothing strange about that. There were thousands of systems back in the Home Galaxy that didn't have a lick of spice in them."

"So what do you have then?"

"A new source." The human paused for effect, "Earth."

Brakatak snorted derisively, "I've talked to a lot of Earthers. I, um . . . worked in that camp on the other side of the planet. They've got spice alright but they use it for cooking. It's just a seasoning to them."

"Maybe what you call spice is something different to them. As the Terrans say 'a rose by a different name'." The spacer removed a small canister from his utility belt and poured a handful of little brown beans atop the counter of the bar.

Brakatak raised his middle eyebrow in surprise. "A seed? I already told you I know the Earthers get their spice from plants. What good is it except to flavor up some soup?"

"You wouldn't want to waste any of this in soup. You grow it and then process its leaves just right and you get something like this." The human pulled a small vial of white powder from his sleeve.

Brakatak's eyes widened. The powder certainly looked like it could be a spice of some kind. Of course it could still be baking soda for all he knew. "What is it?"

"Cocaine, my friend. It comes from specially processing the leaves that grow from these coca beans."

"What's it do?" Brakatak still had his guard up. There were a few varieties of spice that came from plants in the Home Galaxy but they were mainly used for medicinal purposes. Only a _stoopa_ Hutt scum would use them recreationally.

"Technically it is a serotonin-norepinephrine-dopamine reuptake inhibiter, which mediates functionality of those neurotransmitters as an exogenous catecholamine transporter ligand."

"A what?" Brakatak blinked all three eyes in confusion.

"It gets you fierfeked up, friend-o. It's an upper. Makes you feel like you're on top of the Galaxy. Cocaine is a hell of a spice."

"I take it I can try a sample."

"Of course. But you don't mix it with your drink or eat it like normal spice. You snort it."

_"Shavit,_ you've got to be joking."

"Not at all. This is how you do it according to the Terran I got this off of." The human laid out a line in front Brakatak. "Just pinch off one nostril and suck in with the other. I understand it's better if you do it quickly."

"Alright, but I warn you, friend, if this is some kind of trick I've got some pretty powerful friends of my own." Brakatak thought of the rest of the crew of the _Agen's Light_. If they could track down him in the midst of that concentration camp surely they could find this scum if he poisoned him.

Brakatak pressed his finger against one nostril and moved his head close to the bar. He noticed the bartender giving the two of them a curious look but ignored him. If the Thisspiasian couldn't compute the nav-coordinates to what they were doing it was his problem. Brakatak sucked in the line with his open nostril.

"E chu ta!" Brakatak exclaimed as he sat up straight again.

The strange spice went off like a bomb inside Brakatak's brain. The inside of his nose burned slightly but the rest of him felt instantly euphoric and self-confident. Without a doubt this mysterious plant substance was the solution to all of his problems. He would sell it and get rich. Richer than even old Moff Kuat.

The human laughed. "So what do you think?"

"This stuff is astral!" Brakatak felt like taking on the famed Kessel Run. "So what kind of deal were you thinking about? Fifty-fifty? You supply it and I distribute, or something else along that hyperlane?"

"Whoa, whoa slow down. You're talking as fast as a Jawa that just discovered the fabled scrap city of the droids."

"Alright, sorry, yeah sorry. This stuff is wizard, I tell you." Brakatak had had his share of experiences with spice but this new Earth variety was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. "How did you discover it?"

"Some of the captured slaves coming up here had it on them. They traded it away for other supplies, food and medicine mostly. Explained how to process the stuff and get the most out of the plants here. I'm willing to give you all of this plus three kilos of coca beans along with processing instructions."

Brakatak may have been as high as the _Death Star_ over Desparye but he still knew there must be a catch. "You say this is an Earth plant. Well from what I've heard Earth plants aren't doing so stellar up here in the Martian soil. Imperial plants are taking off like pod racers but the earthling plants are struggling."

"That's true. I've seen it with my own eyes. The only reason we're growing any sort of Earth crops up here is to keep those Terran slaves fed, if you can even call it that. But tell you what, I've got a brother who is serving on Earth. He's away from the major fighting in a land called New Zealand. On the next supply run I can get him to send up ten fifty-kilo drums of prime Earth soil to grow your coca plants in. What do you say?"

Brakatak thought about it. The cocaine was making him giddier than usual. He could have Erw and Raf rig up some kind of sealed greenhouse attached to their home. It could work. It would work. Stang, it was worth a shot anyways. "But what do you get out of this whole deal. Don't tell me you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart."

The human chuckled. "I'm not interested in credits, if that's what you're wondering."

Brakatak wondered what kind of being wasn't interested in credits.

The human continued, "Like I've said I've got a brother, in fact a bunch of siblings, and I'm working on a project to help them. The project only needs a few more pieces of equipment to be complete. I heard you've got a pretty fast ship and a little experience in smuggling."

_Stang_, Brakatak thought. This human was well informed and Brakatak hardly knew a thing about him. "You've been asking around."

"It helps the cause to stay well informed of what's going on in the city. So what I need is a transport and a little help picking up my equipment."

"By _picking up_ I assume you mean a little bit of the old crash and bang?" Brakatak asked, his eyes involuntarily going back and forth between the human and the coca beans.

"Perhaps, if it comes to that. It's not like their owner is still using it. This job will only take a day or so."

"Where's this equipment located?" Brakatak tried to look more interested in what was happening in the cantina. Across the bar a Gamorrean bouncer was throwing a drunk Rodian out on his _shebs_. But he couldn't feign disinterest for long, even he knew that he had already swallowed the hook. Cocaine was the spice that was going to make him a rich being. He was sure of it.

"Venus. You know it as Earth 2. I should warn you that some of the equipment may be quite large. You may have to lighten your freighter for this trip."

"How large are we talking?" The _Agen's Light_ was a light-freighter class and could only hold so much.

"The equipment is about two-thirds the size of a standard bacta tank. Once I empty them they should be easy enough to transport onto your ship."

Brakatak did some quick calculations in his head. "I can probably get twelve to sixteen of them onboard. Would it be better if we made two trips?"

"No, I think the first trip would be enough to set off someone's alarm. Besides, a dozen would serve my purposes quite nicely. I understand you may have a contact on Venus."

This human was really well informed, Brakatak worried. The euphoria of the cocaine was starting to wear off but he wasn't craving another nip, yet. "Yes, I may know someone. He's a Morseerian, one of the pilots of that big colony ship they've got out that way. He's bored out of his skull now that the things parked in orbit. He's one of the glitbiters that bought out my glitterstim supply and he's kriffing dust-happy for something new last I heard. He could get us aboard the _Sweet Skako_, but not without a price."

The human grinned. "You don't suppose he'd like to be the first to sample your new spice?" he looked down upon the vial still sitting on the bar.

"I think he might be open to some suggestions." Brakatak smiled back. "So we have a deal. My crew and I get you aboard the _Sweet Skako_, I'm assuming it's the colony ship you're wanting to board since conditions on the surface of Earth 2 are still quite fatal for both of our species."

"That's what I had in mind, yes."

"We get you and this equipment of yours out and you leave us the three kilos of beans, the dirt and instructions for how to make cocaine and then we both go our separate, merry ways. Is that correct?"

"That's the gist of it. We can start out tonight. The sooner the better." The human started to get up.

Brakatak followed his lead. "My ship is ready to go. I've just got to gather my crew. Do you want to follow me back to our landing dock?"

"I already know where it's at but I wouldn't mind a lift. I've already got all the gear I'll need in my bag here." the human pointed towards the ground. Brakatak noticed for the first time a large duffel bag that the human had propped up against the bar on his far side. The spacer picked it up and swung the bag over his shoulder.

"Well then, after you. By the way what do I call you, friend?" Brakatak asked as the two of them walked towards the cantina's entrance.

"I go by Neyo these days." The name sounded slightly familiar to Brakatak but he couldn't quite place it so he said nothing.

As soon as they exited the cantina they were surrounded by a pesky trio of Jawas. The waist-high rodents gibbered away in their language and waved their cloaked appendages to get Neyo and Brakatak to stop.

"Utini!" one of them screamed and waved an old datapad at Brakatak's face.

"No, I don't want to buy your rusty, old datapad." Brakatak glared in annoyance at the Jawa who seemed to be the leader of the pack. His eyes lit upon a button that was pinned to the Jawa's cloak. In a tiny aurebesh scrawl it read 'Jesus Saves'. Brakatak had no idea who Jesus was or what he was saving. He figured it must have been an ad for a bank of some sort.

"I don't think they're selling. It looks like he wants us to sign something." Neyo observed.

"What?" Who had ever heard of a Jawa who wasn't interested in making a deal? Brakatak took the datapad from the small alien and quickly read it to himself.

It was a petition to Emperor Yos to end the war on Earth and bring the troops fighting there home. Brakatak thrust the datapad back at the Jawa as if he had just discovered the thing was covered with the festering plague. If he had signed something like that back in the Old Empire he would have just bought himself a one-way ticket to Kessel. Here on Mars and it would no doubt get him kicked back to Concentration Camp 1138 in a hurry.

"Are you out of your kriffing little rodent mind? Get that nonsense out of my face." Brakatak stormed past the trio. Neyo followed right behind also refusing to put his name on the condemning piece of data.

Brakatak led his new partner to his waiting airspeeder. The big Gran leaped over the driver side door and landed neatly behind the controls. Neyo more casually walked around the vehicle and slid into the seat Jason had called 'shotgun'.

With a stuttering jerk Brakatak launched the airspeeder into the sky. The new Earth spice was still coursing through his veins, giving him a feeling of elation unlike anything he had ever experienced. He suddenly felt like he was the top TIE fighter ace in the Imperial navy. He aimed the airspeeder at the exhaust towers of the nearby recycling plant and pushed the controls forward so the airspeeder banked into a power dive.

"Yee Haaa!" Brakatak yelled as he weaved the airspeeder through the belching exhaust flames from the industrial complex. Beside him Neyo calmly took the out of control flight in stride. Brakatak was bothered by the spacer's seeimingly unflappable facade and took it as a personal challenge to get a rise out of the human.

He dove the airspeeder back to ground level, where he located the power couplings of the nearby Culter City Electrical Plant. The couplings blinked on and off with a buzzing, visible wall of energy. Brakatak timed the first coupling perfectly and streaked right through the grid before the next flash of energy erupted behind them, cackling with glee the entire time.

"You want me to drive, friend?" Neyo asked. "I think the spice might be getting to you."

"This is nothing. I could fly through this with all three eyes closed." Brakatak bragged.

"Well then let's make this interesting." Neyo said. The human withdrew his sidearm and extended it out of the vehicle and past the wind viewport.

Brakatak's spice-addled mind was slow to grasp what the spacer had in mind until Neyo unleashed two perfectly aimed blasts into the next coupling's right tower. The resulting hits scrambled the wave of energy like an untamed lightning bolt. Brakatak reacted on panic and put the airspeeder on its side.

He had no idea how he managed it but he avoided the energy wave by sheer millimeters. He looked over at Neyo with a self-satisfied grin. Neyo returned the smile and without even looking put another two bolts into the next approaching coupling.

This time electrical energy washed over the airspeeder. Brakatak panicked as the controls shorted out and the airspeeder rapidly started losing altitude. With a jaw-shaking bump the airspeeder bounced off the duracrete roadway beneath them and slid to a halt just before the final coupling.

"Why'd you do that?" Brakatak demanded.

"It's spice. It just makes you _feel_ wizard. It doesn't give you any sort of super abilities. Remember that." Neyo said.

"I will." he said. The two of them had to wait a few moments for the airspeeder's controls to come back online. While he was doing so Brakatak took a moment to check his comlink. The device had been knocked off-line as well by the powerful surge of energy but was much quicker in returning to life than the airspeeder. Brakatak used the time to comm his herd and meet him back at the homestead.

After a few moments the navi rebooted and the twin turbofan engines finally charged back to life and Brakatak reengaged the craft's repulserlifts and launched it back into the sky. This time he was careful to avoid the last power coupling in the electrical plant. He edged the airspeeder towards the nearest skyway and drove out of the city. The rest of the trip passed in silence until they reached the homestead on the edge of the Ares Vallis.

Brakatak sighed in happiness at the view from above the home. A year ago they had lived amongst scattered homesteads on the edge of the capital city. But construction and expansion had caught up to them and they now found themselves in a sprawling suburb of Culter City. It helped a little that a lot of his neighbors were members of his original Gran herd under the bull Frek Frek but Brakatak wanted to be a pirate, not a member of the citizen watch.

The homestead itself consisted of a few small, above ground structures constructed around a large, excavated landing pit. In the center of the circular landing bay rested the YT-2000 stock-light freighter, _Agen's_ _Light._ Cut into the sides of the pit were several apartments for the crew as well as a maintenance bay, storage facility, airspeeder garage and various other living spaces.

Brakatak landed the airspeeder in the garage, exited and led Neyo towards the landing bay. Neyo slung his bag of gear over his shoulder and followed along.

The bay was well lit with maintenance flood lamps. Erw and Raf were sitting atop the _Agen's Light_ shouting at each other in a mix of Huttese and Utainese. Several engine hatches were open and it appeared as if the little Utais had been working on something or another on the freighter. Erw smacked Raf on the shoulder to get his attention and pointed at Brakatak as he entered the bay. The two pinkish aliens squeaked in joy and jumped down to the landing bay's floor. The noise they created alerted the rest of the crew, who emerged from living spaces around the bay.

Ashlei and Keatly, the two Firrerreo girls, looked as if they had just arrived from a night out on the town. They both had their multi-colored hair hanging loosely to their waists and wore outfits more suited for a night at the Long Jump Casino than hanging around the homestead. Frip was with them and looked exhausted, like the two younger females had been dancing circles around him all night. With such a distraction it was no wonder the Ishi Tib had let slip that they were after spice to Neyo earlier in the evening. Rana, their Duro pilot, was wearing her gray flight suit when she emerged from her apartment. Brakatak figured she had spent the night watching the HoloNews or lost in a HoloNovel.

The last to arrive was Ashla Ti and the earthling, Jason Bogan. They were holding hands. Brakatak was pleased at the budding romance that had sprung up between the two, especially considering Ashla had seemed so distant to the earthling at first. As an outcast Jedi, she had a lot in common with a fugitive earthling, and it was about time she noticed.

Ashla smiled at Brakatak when she entered and then looked to see who was accompanying him. Her eyes went wide in recognition as she stared at the new human with him.

"You!" The Togruta shouted in surprise at the spacer. She let go of Jason's hand and bared her fangs at the newcomer.

"Ashla. I see you found your missing friends. I was hoping you'd be here tonight." Neyo answered innocently.

"You two know each other?" Jason and Brakatak asked at the same time.

"Um, yes. In a way." Ashla answered. "Neyo here is the clone trooper who helped me break into that Arkanian Microtechnologies's cloning facility that led me to your whereabouts."

"Those Khommite kriffing cloners! Ambush me and Brakatak friend. Send us to poodoo concentration camp with Jason friend's beings. Where back stabbers now?" Frip hooted in anger.

"I have them. They're working on something for my brothers and me. But don't worry, they're not exactly on a holiday." Neyo reassured them.

"If you're working with them then the deals off." Brakatak growled.

"They are in my employ but believe me they're not there voluntarily nor are they enjoying themselves. You will just have to trust me that I had nothing to do with their misdeeds towards you or your associates here." Neyo responded.

Brakatak weighed the clone's answer. He remembered Ashla's version of her encounter with Neyo and how the man had taken those vile Khommites captive. He certainly didn't act as if he intended any sort of harm to befall Brakatak's herd. Besides, Neyo had offered the crew a new way to make some credits, enough credits to make them all very wealthy.

"That is good enough for me." Brakatak told the rest of the herd.

Most of them nodded or shrugged. Frip still looked unconvinced but he, like Brakatak, had also been wrongfully imprisoned by those traitorous cloners. Brakatak expected his little friend to have his guard up. Hopefully he would see some unknown danger that Brakatak had missed.

"I brought Neyo here tonight because he's offered us a job." Brakatak yelled. The cocaine was still buzzing through his veins and he didn't realize he was shouting until he saw the way his herd was looking at him.

There were short murmers amongst the crew at his proclamation. Rana spoke first. She was never one to give her trust very easily. "What kind of job? Pirating, smuggling, some kind of bounty work? Mr. Neyo, you're obviously a veteran of the Clone War. I hope you're not expecting us to do any sort of wet work. This crew doesn't do assassinations."

"Not at all. I could handle something like that myself. I was hoping for a little bit of snatch and grab. And not a kidnapping either, just the procurement of some mislaid equipment. A blaster needn't ever be raised." Neyo replied.

Brakatak hoped that put them at ease. He, too, felt queasy about killing, even after what he had witnessed Ashla do on their first pirate raid against those Ugnaughts. It was an occupational hazard of becoming a pirate but not one Brakatak wanted to make a habit of.

"Sounds like something up our hyperlane. What do you have in mind?" Rana asked.

"Just a transport job. I need your crew to take me to Earth 2." Neyo told them.

"We can't go to Earth 2. We won't survive more than a few seconds on the surface of that planet even if we were wearing Mark II spacetrooper armor." Rana objected. "From what I've heard that world's got a serious pressure problem."

"Earth 2? You guys mean Venus?" Jason asked. "The 900 degree air there can cook a pizza in nine seconds and then vaporize you."

Brakatak sent the earthling a warning glare. They were taking enough of a risk harboring him without letting a clone know they had a Terran in their midst. "HoloNews calls it that every once in a while." Jason's shoulder's sagged as he realized he had put his foot in his mouth again.

"The world's not off limits." Keatly interjected, "The Emperor dispatched all those Skakoans and Morseerians there to terraform that planet into an Imperial colony. Most of them will be dirtside on that world while we deliver Neyo here to the colony ship in orbit around Earth 2."

"And what is it you're after this time, Commander Neyo?" Ashla asked icily. Brakatak noted that she used the clone's military rank. She may have made peace with the clone but it'd be a long while before she ever started forgetting about Order 66.

"Cloning vats. As many as you beings can fit aboard that freighter of yours." Neyo pointed at the _Agen's Light_. "They're individual and paired Spaarti cloning vats, not the big bulky Kamino vats like the ones I was decanted from. You strip down your cargo hold and we should be able to get sixteen or so of them aboard."

"And the beings around Earth 2 won't mind us purloining any of their property. Probably be waiting for us with some Cheffa Cake and these vats of yours all wrapped up and topped with a large bow." Rana said.

Brakatak interrupted. "Neyo and I discussed this on the way back here. The terraformers aboard the _Sweet Skako_ have transferred all personnel dirtside. All of their clones have been decanted and flash trained and are currently helping out with terraforming efforts in their new colony. The colony ship itself has been left in orbit with only a small maintenance crew. Neyo has already looked into it and the ship doesn't even carry a guard force. This should be a blue milk run."

"Thinking of using laser-brained Nabrun Bekan you are. Barvy Glitbitter out of mind with spice when we meet four-armed fool at Long Jump." Frip accused Brakatak.

Frip was right, of course. They had met Nabrun Bekan at the Long Jump when the Morseerian pilot had been on a short leave from the terraforming project and had been looking for spice. He had told the two of them that it helped fight the boredom of staring at the same planet from orbit every day. He was a friendly enough spacer, even if he did have too much time on his multiple hands.

"Nabrun is wizard. He'll let us in. The last time we saw him he wanted us to keep an eye out for anyone with a spice supply. Well he'll be happy to see this."

Brakatak dug in his pocket and pulled out the small bag of white, powdery cocaine. "Earth Spice." He showed the crew who leaned in for a better look.

"Earth Spice? That looks like Cocai. . ." Jason started to say before Ashla put a hand over his mouth.

Brakatak looked over at Neyo, who raised a questioning eyebrow towards the earthling. Clones weren't known for being slow. Surely the former clonetrooper was attempting to figure out Jason's presence here. With an almost imperceptible shrug Neyo gave up and looked back at the group.

"If that works as good as glitterstim it should get us through the door alright. Especially if this pilot of yours is as big a glitbitter as you say he is. But what I want to know is what's in it for us." Rana motioned towards the rest of the herd.

"You're all going to be richer than Jabba the Hutt." Neyo said. "Show them."

Brakatak dug out the can of cocoa beans and held them out to the crew. Their faces showed nothing but confusion. "You can grow more of this Earth Spice from these beans. Neyo is going to leave instructions on how to process the plants. We'll control all production and distribution in the entire Empire. We'll be able to buy our own planet once we get this up and running."

There were more murmers of excitement and surprise amongst the crew. Most of them looked like they were starting to be sold on the idea, especially if it required little effort or danger on their part.

"Ha! We're working for magic beans! Well, you can call me Jack. When can we go climb this beanstalk?" Jason laughed out loud.

Brakatak didn't understand the reference. But then again most of the herd only understood half of what the earther ever said.

"We can get started as soon as your starship is ready. From the look of her she's ready to go, she'll just need her cargo spaces stripped down as much as possible." Neyo said. Erw and Raf squeaked and ran up the loading ramp to get started on the task. "That will give Brakatak enough time to contact this Morseerian friend of his. Sound astral?"

"Sounds astral to me, Neyo. But I'm sure you won't mind that I'm not going to let you out of my sight while we do this little job for you." Ashla said as she put a hand on each of the lightsabers on her belt.

Brakatak snorted. Ashla Ti was never the warmest of hosts.

The crew scattered after that. Frip and Jason boarded the freighter to help out the two Utais clear out the ship's hold. They stacked cargo and equipment in piles around the hanger. Ashlei and Keatley helped Rana do a pre-flight check on the _Light, _while Neyo stored his gear aboard the ship. Ashla stuck to the clone like gluestat. Brakatak commed Nabrun Bekan, who hungrily agreed to let them board his ship under the guise of a supply run from the capital.

Brakatak assured the suddenly ecstatic Morseerian that they would see him shortly. He was so lost in his call that he hardly noticed the heavy footfalls that approached him. He looked up in time to see a stormtrooper with the insignia of the Home Legion on his armor. Ashla and Ashlei stood behind the trooper, looking unconcerned.

Neyo took off his helmet and nodded. "In case we run into any one who gets a little too nosy about why we're there. Nobody likes to mess with the Boys-in-White."

Ashlei smiled. "Neyo's idea. He had the armor in his bag." She jerked a thumb at the clone.

Brakatak understood the need for subterfuge and the wisdom of the disguise. No being in their right mind messed with a stormtrooper. He held up his comlink to show that he had just finished his comm. "Well we're all set." Brakatak waved a hand at the _Agen's Light_. "Shall we?"

The herd boarded the vessel. A few moments later they were lifting off and leaving the bright lights of Culter City behind them. With the aid of the _Light's_ powerful, modified engines they passed through the upper layers of Mars's atmosphere less than a minute after leaving their hanger bay. On sub-light engines it would take most starships a couple of hours to make the trip between Mars and Earth 2. The _Agen's Light_ could make the journey in less than one.

Half way to their destination Brakatak walked around the vessel to perform a last minute check on the ship's systems. He wanted to make sure with his own three eyes that the _Agen's Light's_ IFF transponder code was still flashing the benign ship code that would throw off any Imperial patrols they came across.

He ran into Jason Bogan in the crew access tunnel between the ship's crew hold and cockpit. The earthling was leaning against the bulkhead, peering out a small viewport above the loading ramp. "See anything interesting?" Brakatak asked.

"Just home." Jason said softly.

Brakatak was confused for a moment since they had just left home far behind them. Then he realized, with some embarrassment, that Jason wasn't talking about Mars. "Earth? I didn't think we'd be passing very close to it."

"We're not. It's that tiny blue star over there." Jason made room for the bigger Gran at the viewport.

Brakatak found the tiny speck of light several million miles off their port side. From this distance, he couldn't make out the hundreds of warships laying siege to the planet, and for that he was grateful, because he knew that seeing such a thing would have hurt Jason. At this distance Earth itself made for a bluish double star, with Earth twice as bright as Luna, the two together jewel-like and a little bit heart stopping. "Pretty. Reminds me of Kinyen." Brakatak offered, fending off a momentary pang of homesickness himself. He had been hauled off to the slave camps of Desparye almost eight years ago and hadn't thought of his home world in quite some time.

He laid an arm on the boy's shoulder. Jason's face was a study in worry and sadness. "I promised you we would smuggle you back there someday and I meant it. You saved my _shebs_ in that camp. I haven't forgotten that. Until then you will always have a place in my herd."

Jason smiled. "It's a good family, Bull." That the earthling tacked on the Gran honorific made Brakatak chuckle. "Thanks Brak, just need to get my head in the game. I won't let you down on this job."

"Never thought you would. Now go see if Erw needs and help. I think he and Raf were stowing the crew bunks down in the smugglers holds so we could squeeze in another vat or two for that clone boy."

"Sure thing." Jason walked away and disappeared around a corner.

Brakatak turned and was surprised to see Ashla leaning against the wall of the cockpit access corridor. She gave him a warm smile. Evidently she had heard the conversation between Jason and him. Well of course she did, she's a stang Jedi, he reminded himself. Probably felt the lad's anguish in the Force or something and came to check on her boyfriend.

"Thank you for talking to him. He looks up to you quite a bit." Ashla said.

"Not a problem." Brakatak said humbly. He wasn't used to any being looking up to him. It felt strange and good at the same time. "Did you need something?"

"Rana wants you to come up to the cockpit. We've got company."

Brakatak followed the Togruta back to the cockpit. Rana was in the captain's chair with Frip in the co-pilot's seat, hooting away. Neyo stood with his arms crossed behind them while Keatley worked the transponder and comm gear on the rear wall of the compartment.

Ahead of them was the mammoth outline of an _Imperial I_-class Star Destroyer. Brakatak's heart suddenly felt as if he had just run a marathon. It was beating so fast it was threatening to crack open his ribs. The rest of the crew turned and looked to him.

"Our sensors show it's the _Flood_." Rana said. "They are moving to intercept our course."

"One of the Emperor's own. She's from the Subterrel Squadron. Yos moved some of his most trusted warships out here as protection against pirates a few weeks ago." Neyo added.

Brakatak stomach lurched. If they hadn't done their pirating so well this warship wouldn't be here now. Of course if they hadn't been such astral pirates in the first place they might be starving now. Or dead.

"I'll send our transponder code." Keatley said. She put the comm on the overhead aural casters.

Brakatak nodded at her. "If they don't go for this we're gonna have to get out of here pretty quick, Rana."

Rana nodded her agreement. The rest of the crew stayed deathly quiet. All eyes focused on the _Flood._

"We have you on our screen now. Please identify." A male voice cut across the comm.

"Freighter _Toydarian_. Requesting passage to the interior system." Keatley responded.

"Freighter _Toydarian_, transmit the clearance code." The Imperial technician ordered over the hyperspace radio.

"Transmission commencing." Keatley pushed a series of icons on the comm/scan monitor. Brakatak listened tensely as the high-speed transmission began.

"Now we find out if that code is worth the price I paid." Neyo said.

"It'll work. It'll work." Brakatak assured the crew.

"It feels like the Emperor himself is on that ship. What is taking them so long?" Rana sighed in frustration.

"Now, don't get jittery, Rana. There's a lot of command ships. Keep your distance though, but don't look like you're trying to keep your distance." Brakatak reassured the Duro.

"And how do I do that?" Rana exclaimed.

"I don't know. Fly casual." he responded.

"Freighter _Toydarian,_ what is your cargo and destination?" The technician asked over the comm.

"Parts and technical crew for the _Sweet Skako_ at Earth 2." Keatley commed. You could cut the tension in the cockpit with a vibroblade.

"They're not going for it." Brakatak said as his eyes focused on the Star Destroyers massive turbolaser turrets,

"Freighter _Toydarian_, clearance granted. Follow your present course." The technician ordered and closed the comm channel.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Rana overflew the warship.

"Alright. I told you it was going to work. No problem." Brakatak took responsibility for the success of the ruse. The crew became more and more relieved as the distance increased between them and the patrolling Star Destroyer.

Earth 2, or Venus as Jason called it, loomed large in the cockpit's viewport. The world was a light-beige color with its surface completely obscured by a thick cloud cover. Near the planet's equator a massive plume of carbon dioxide dry ice was being expelled out into the void. The plume was angled along the planet's rotation in an effort to speed up the planet's spin to create a more standard day for the colony. The plume could be seen stretching for thousands of kilometers away from Earth 2 before it dissipated enough to turn invisible to the naked eye.

The colony ship _Sweet Sako_ orbited near the base of the plume. The starship was a hybrid of Ithorian and Mon Cal shipwright designs, which left her a bulbous, elongated heavy freighter designed to carry several thousand passengers as well as a hundred thousand tonnes of heavy terraforming equipment and supply. Brakatak didn't notice any sort of armament on the ship as the _Agen's Light_ approached and flew along its hull toward the vessel's hanger bay.

"Brakatak, old buddy, is that you out there?" A male voice cut across the comm.

Brakatak recognized it. "Nabrun, you spacer scum, you know anyone else that would visit you out here on the _sheb_ end of the solar system?"

"One would have to be pretty, kriffing bored. I'll drop the hanger door. Watch out for that plume when you come around unless you'd like to glow in the dark. That stuff they're venting is pretty radioactive."

"Thanks for the tip. I'll see you in a moment." Brakatak commed back.

"I'll meet you in the hanger. Hope you brought some rebreathers or it's going to be a short visit." Nabrun signed off.

Rana brought the _Light_ into the hanger for a smooth landing. Outside the viewport Brakatak only noticed a pair of R2 astromech droids moving about the hanger. Except for a lone Corellian _YV-666_ light-freighter, the _Agen's_ _Light_ had the hanger to itself.

Neyo, in his armor, gathered Brakatak's herd by the loading ramp. The rest of the crew strapped clear plastoid rebreathers to their faces. A display on the crew hatch read that the hanger's atmosphere consisted largely of methane gases; the normal medium that both the Morseerians and the Skakoan colonists breathed on their home worlds. It was also the atmosphere into which the colonists were attempting to terraform Earth 2.

Brakatak lowered the loading ramp and led the crew into the hanger. His ears popped from the slightly heavier air pressure both of the two colony species preferred.

"Brakatak, you scruffy-looking cud-chewer, How are you doing my friend?" Nabrun Bekan waited alone for them at the bottom of the ramp. Brakatak was surprised that the green, four-armed alien wasn't wearing a rebreather of his own. In fact, this was the first time Brakatak had ever seen the face of one of the cone-headed Morseerians, since they preferred to cover up with their own breathing devices when out and about in the galaxy at large. The rest of the hanger appeared deserted. Most of the colonists and the ship's crew had been moved to the nearby planet's surface.

"I'm wizard. Glad to see you could let us in so quickly after I commed." Brakatak took Nabrun's lower right hand and shook it in greeting.

"I'm just excited to hear you might have some kind of new spice for me to try out. My own supply was starting to dry up. Without it I would have nothing to take my mind off of that every day." Nabrun pointed one of his four arms out the hanger shield at the silent planet beneath them. "Without glitterstim I think I would have gone mad long ago."

"Wait till you get a load of this then." Brakatak pulled out the small bag of white powder and held it up in front of Nabrun.

"Good spice?"

"Some of the best I ever come across. Works just like gitterstim, except you snort it up your nose." Brakatak explained.

The Morseerian shot the Gran a disbelieving look. "Really?"

"I'm not joking. Found it hard to believe myself, but the stuff has got a pretty astral kick. Go ahead and try some."

Nabrun wasted no time. He placed a tiny amount on the tip of a finger and held it under his nose. He gave one last unsure look towards Brakatak who nodded for him to proceed. Then he sniffed. The white powder disappeared up his nostrils.

"E chu ta!"

Brakatak laughed as Nabrun sneezed. "Told you it was wizard."

Nabrun's eyes were giant orbs now. A huge grin crossed his face. "You didn't mention the half of it." He clutched the small bag close to his chest. "When can I get more of this . . . what's it called?"

"The eartheans call it cocaine but that sounds so odd, so I think I'll sell it as Earth-Spice." Brakatak said.

Neyo nudged Brakatak in the arm, reminding the Gran of their true purpose aboard the _Sweet Skako_. "Oh yes, so are we square on the price?"

Nabrun looked over at Neyo in his stormtrooper armor.

"I can get you three months supply of Earth-Spice for you keeping quiet over this." Brakatak offered.

"Six."Nabrun replied.

"Four." Brakatak countered.

"Fine, but there are a few others on board. We may be a skeleton crew but that doesn't mean you won't go unnoticed." Nabrun warned.

"That is to be expected." Neyo said, holding up a datapad with several top-level clearance codes from Moff Culter across it. "This should satisfy the curiosity of any one that gets too interested in our presence. Now where are the clone vats?"

"Science Level _Senth-2._There's a freight turbolift right outside the hanger blastdoors. You can use those repulsor lifts along the wall there to move them." Nabrun pointed at a pair of maintanence sleds tucked away along one wall of the hanger. Erw and Frip trotted over to quickly retrieve them.

"Is that area secured of personnel?" Neyo asked.

"For sure, friend. All the scientists and terraformers are dirtside. That area's been practically abandoned for months now. Every since those long necked, fishy cloners returned to Culter City after they decanted everyone." Nabrun said holding up the bag of Earth Spice to the overhead hanger floodlights, studying his new find. The Morseerian actually licked his lips in anticipation.

Neyo motioned his index finger in a circle in a motion and pointed at the blast doors. The blast doors squeaked and rattled open. Everyone but Brakatak and Rana stayed with the ship. Rana stayed aboard the_ Agen's Light _while Brakatak stayed outside and talked with the Morseerian.

"Never seen a spice dealer with his own stormtrooper before. Is he for real?" Nabrun asked as he watched the crew disappear out the blast door.

"Aye. Got an itchy trigger-finger too. He gets mighty upset whenever a buyer skip out on a payment." Brakatak lied, but he could see the nervousness in Nabrun's eyes and could tell the Morseerian took the warning seriously.

"Don't worry about me. This job keeps my pockets deep in credits and there's little to nothing out here to spend them on. Odd you're taking payment in cloning vats, though? Nabrun raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Just another side project my crew and I are working on. You'll be able to cover up their disappearance won't you?" Brakatak asked.

"Just a matter of changing some datalogs in the ship's inventory. We won't need them again for a few years to clone livestock and seed once things settle down on the surface. By then no one will remember how many we had or where we left them all. Things get lost all the time on big operations like this with so many beings involved." Nabrun explained nonchalantly, as if misplacing cloning equipment was an everyday occurrence in his line of work.

At that moment the blast doors rattled open again. The crew reentered the hanger hauling their loot. Each of the grav-sleds carried a pair of vats, while Jason and Raf rolled a cylindrical vat ahead of them. Ashlei and Erw pushed another while Frip and Ashla followed with a final one. Neyo kept guard at the rear of the small convoy.

Keatly steered her repulsor sled up to Brakatak. "Wasn't hard to find and was actually pretty close by. The level they've got these things stored in looks abandoned. I don't think any of his crew has been down there for months." Keatly pointed at Nabrun.

"Astral. Let's get these loaded." Brakatak said. "It looks like they'll just fit inside the loading ramp."

"There should be enough space for my payment." Neyo said. "Two more trips and we should be done."

Brakatak helped the crew stow the clone vats aboard the _Agen's Light_. He stayed aboard and rearranged the cargo to save as much space as possible. For the crew it would be standing space only on the return trip to Mars.

Within a half hour the crew was returning to the hanger with the final vats. They had secured a total of nineteen of the large tanks, the last of which was being manhandled up the loading ramp when they were suddenly interrupted.

"Hey!{fzzt} What is going on in here? {fzzt}" A Skakoan's electronic voice cut across the hanger. Brakatak spun around to see a tall, green being in a pressurized, protective suit coming in their direction. Brakatak recognized the rank squares on the Skakoan's uniform as being those of the Captain of the _Sweet Skako._

"E chu ta. Ashla, can you help out with this?" Brakatak turned to Ashla.

Ashla gave him a disapproving look. He knew she disliked using her Jedi powers as the team's back-up plan but she didn't argue. She walked past him and intercepted the approaching officer.

"What is the meaning of {fzzt} this, Pilot Bekan?" The Captain asked.

"We're here to collect equipment for Moff Culter." Ashla answered before the Morseerian could.

"Why {fzzt} wasn't I notified? I'll have to contact Moff Culter's office myself to confirm this." The Skakoan pulled a comlink from his uniform.

Brakatak sucked in an anxious breath, positive they were about to be found out. Nearby, Neyo started to pull his blaster from its holster. Behind him he heard the click of the AX-108 Ground Buzzer cannon sliding into place underneath the hull of their starship. Evidently Rana had been paying attention and didn't like this development either.

Ashla waved her hand in front of the Skakoan's face, "We're here to collect equipment for Moff Culter."

"You here {fzzt} to collect equipment for {fzzt} Moff Culter." The Captain repeated.

Brakatak wouldn't have believed it if he didn't already know what Ashla was. All he knew was that without her they would have been looking at a short trip back to Concentration Camp 1138.

"You want us to hurry up and move along." Ashla said calmly.

"{fzzt} You are going too slow. Hurry up and move this ship off my {fzzt} vessel."

The Skakoan moved away from Ashla and stood next to a very nervous looking Nabrun Bekan. No doubt the Morseerian pilot was sure he had just been found out as someone who does spice-deals with pirates, which is exactly what he was.

Brakatak didn't have time to worry about Nabrun though. He motioned urgently for Jason and Raf to finish loading the last cloning vat aboard. Ashla stood defiantly between the suddenly affable Skakoan officer and the _Agen's Light_. Brakatak and Neyo stood at the bottom of the loading ramp.

"We're all set." Keatly called from the interior of the freighter.

"Ashla, let's go. We'll be in touch." Brakatak called to Nabrun who nodded in understanding.

The three of them rushed up the loading ramp as it slowly closed behind them. Brakatak felt the ship quiver as Rana wasted no time taking off. The _Light _flashtailed out of the hanger shields and out past the carbon dioxide plume quickly putting distance between themselves and the _Sweet Skako_.

The crew settled in the best they could considering most of the available space aboard the starship was crammed with purloined cloning vats. Neyo went to check on his cargo with Ashla in tow. Brakatak found himself back at the viewport from before with the near-human Jason Bogan.

As if thinking about him made him appear Jason was suddenly at Brakatak's side. "Brak, I need to talk to you if you've got a minute."

"Sure thing. We won't be getting back to Culter City for an hour or so. I'm sure Rana's going to want to avoid that Star Destroyer's patrol zone." Brakatak put a friendly palm on the earthling's shoulder.

"It's this cocaine you found, Bull. It's nasty stuff. I'm no coke-head, I've never even tried it, but I know it will kill you if you take too much of it." Jason said. "I really, really don't want to get involved in being a crack-dealer on Mars."

"That's understandable. I don't want to push any of the crew into doing something they don't want to do." Brakatak told the truth. He was very protective of his small herd and he owed his life to Jason Bogan. "Once we get the crop of beans planted we will use other beings to sell for us. The credits will come pouring in. If you don't want to have a hand in that then you know I could always use a blaster at my side I can trust. You make a great pirate."

"Thanks, Brak. By the way, you know this crap isn't the only Earth-Spice that we've got on my homeworld." Jason said.

"Really? I had no idea Earth was so . . . bountiful." Brakatak said, intrigued.

"Oh, we've got this great one that me and my friends used to use all the time back at M.I.T. Makes you feel really wizard. It grows anywhere too, maybe even Mars. I talked to Neyo and he can get me some seeds, too. No one's ever died from it as far as I know. You ever hear of weed?"

Brakatak was intrigued, "Jason, this could be the start of a beautiful partnership."

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I'm not saying it will happen, but a wookiee may or may not rip your arms off if you don't review


	58. Yutu 5

_Weapon X _Control Station, Deline, North West Territories, NAU, Earth

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Even with summer only a few days away it was damn cold along the shores of the Great Bear Lake. The engineer blew on his exposed hands to keep them warm. The smell of smoke and pine wafted through the frigid air.

Though it numbed him down to his bones he had to admit that the cold was a good thing. Without it he was positive the Empire would have already discovered this secret facility hidden away in the Canadian wilderness.

As it was the Empire's Star Destroyers rarely patrolled this far north, not since the first week of the war when they had laid waste to the oil refineries out on Canada's tundra and the Alaskan fields further to the west. With global temperatures dropping due to the alien's bombardment, and massive amounts of smoke and debris in the atmosphere the winter and spring had been incredibly severe, not only slowing down the completion of this project but preventing repair teams from returning to the oil fields.

A train whistled from several miles away and the engineer raised his binoculars to his eyes. He spotted the locomotive slowly coming to a halt. A signalman with a laser measuring device waved a flag at the train's conductor to indicate that the huge engine was in the correct location. All electronic communication was kept to a bare minimum to avoid detection.

His gaze moved along the flat cars of the train. A special track had been laid for the train and several of her sisters. Each of them carrying massive batteries and power generators that were slowly starting to heat up as crews crawled over them like ants to plug them into the _Abraham Lincoln's_ power grid.

The engineer smiled when he thought of the weapon's name. She certainly was the grandest of all 'Rail-splitters'.

He stepped back inside the control room for some warmth. Controllers sat at dozens of stations around the room. The design had been copied from the NASA control station that lay in ruins in what was left of Houston. A large HD plasma screen showed digital readout from several systems near the weapon's base. Several smaller camera screens showed workers busy clearing the brush and fallen trees that camouflaged the massive trunnions and support arms, which were laid out in a perfect 'X' when seen from space. Another screen showed the two colossal rails of the weapon slowly being raised out of the waters of the Great Bear Lake by a series of twenty-story derricks. Behind the control room technicians serviced an advanced super computer whose sole purpose was aiming the _Abraham Lincoln_.

A chemical unit from the Army was attached to the project and had lit oil drums for miles around the weapon site in a vain hope that their smoke would mask the weapon's preparation for a few more hours.

"How many shots do you think we'll get off?" The Air Force Commander of the project asked him. The General had been overseeing the project since its inception, which was when the aliens had first appeared in the solar system.

"If we break every safety protocol and realize that the Empire will never let us get away with this, we can go full out and get maybe three shots off. That's if we can bring the time between shots down to thirty or forty minutes." The Engineer said.

"I had hoped for the full five shots myself. But that first salvo will be the critical one." The General said.

"Yes, Sir. We can't waste it." The Engineer watched the screens as one barrel section was connected to another. Teams of workman swarmed over the joint to secure it.

The _Abraham Lincoln_ was the world's largest rail gun. Originally designed as an alternative method to deliver heavy equipment and materials to orbit so that it could be retrieved by manned space craft. She covered an area of two square miles centered on her gun carriage, which along with its breach was the size of the Pentagon. Its twin barrels were three quarters of a mile long each. Counting several army units used as security, including dogs and a reinforced AA regiment, just over four thousand personnel were being used to man the massive weapon.

"We will have to get each reload salvo lined up before the first is fired. That way the loading trains can haul each series of projectiles straight onto the cannon before we slam close the breech again." The Engineer pointed to another screen which showed five sets of ten locomotives. Each of the trains sat in front of a steel projectile that weighed two hundred tonnes and were about as big as a good-sized barn. Smaller five tonne projectiles rested on flat cars preceding each locomotive. Heavily-armed soldiers patrolled around the engines to ensure they weren't tampered with.

"How much longer before you're ready?" the General asked impatiently.

"It was designed to be ready to fire in a month's time. But that was before the war. If my teams ignore safety concerns and work around the clock we could have it up and ready to fire in six days." The Engineer admitted.

"Do it."

Four days later they were ready. The crews had almost killed themselves to prepare the weapon. Knowing that the _Abraham Lincoln_ would help avenge the bombardment the Empire had unleashed on them had inspired them more than the Engineer could have hoped. The Engineer watched in awe as the twin booms of the rail gun were lifted high into the air.

"Weapon is loaded." A technician reported. The large screen in the center of the room showed the breech block slamming shut on the first salvo of projectiles. Its loading team retreated to the south aboard their locomotives.

"Activate targeting systems." The General ordered.

"Phase array is up."

"Rotor is rolling at full speed."

"LIDAR is a go." Technicians reported.

"Primary target is locked."

"Compulsators at a hundred percent."

"Secondary target is moving into target area." A technician warned.

The Engineer turned to a targeting computer and spotted the now familiar diamond shape approaching them from over the pole. "Target confirmed. Will be in optimal firing position in three minutes." He announced to the control room.

He turned to the General and whispered. "They're definitely onto us. That thing is making a beeline right for us."

"You knew we were dead men when you signed onto this project." The General laughed. "But we can give them a surprise or two before we go."

"That, we can manage." The Engineer admitted.

The barrels reached an angle of seventy-five degrees. The Engineer placed protective goggles over his eyes as shutters lowered to block the control station's windows.

"Secondary target in range." A technician reported.

"Fire." The General barked.

Five miles away a dozen projectiles shot forth from the _Abraham Lincoln_ at supersonic speeds. The lead projectiles were the five tonne steel balls that superheated the atmosphere as they reached orbit half a second after leaving the rail gun. Behind them was the two hundred tonne beast that was the heart of their assault.

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_Victory II_-class SD _Eradicate_, Polar Orbit Patrol, investigating heat signature, Earth Orbit

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"We are on top of the heat anomaly now, Captain." The executive officer reported.

Captain Forrest, commander of the Ploo Squadron Star Destroyer, ordered, "Activate sensors. Bring it up on the bridge holoprojector."

A blue holoimage of what was obviously a weapon complex appeared before them. It was several kilometers across and looked like a grown-up version of the railguns the Terrans had recently deployed in their defense of Target East. Smoke canisters deliberately set around the blaster carriage of the device attempted to obscure the view of the weapon from orbit. Several areas around the weapon were showing a sudden industrial scale build-up of heat.

"That wasn't there a week ago." The XO stated. "Could the abos have moved something that large without us knowing?"

"Not likely. My guess is they buried it or submerged it in that large body of water it's next to, or both." The Captain answered. "I want a full spectrum scan done on that target."

"Aye, aye sir." The XO replied, motioning for several sailors in the crew pit below to carry out the Captain's orders.

"Sir, The weapon is blasting. We are in their trajectory!" A sailor manning the CommScan station yelled out.

Captain Forrest looked back at the holoimage. A massive wave of static discharge surged away from the weapon, knocking over trees around the weapon's base. A large cloud of dust rose from the forest to mix with the smoke around the railgun.

He hit a button on the holoprojector that switched the view to the feed from the ship's targeting and acquisition computers. Gargantuan slugs were cutting their way through the planet's upper atmosphere at an insane escape velocity.

"Hard to port!" He screamed at the helmsman. "Shields at full!"

Collision alarms wailed as the warship lurched slowly out path of the oncoming attack. Pin point defense missiles raced off their racks to smash harmlessly into the oncoming slugs, which continued to bear on the warship with unbelievable speed.

The _Eradicate_ vibrated violently as the first of the smaller slugs impacted with the shields along the bottom of the ship's hull. His first assumption was that the projectiles were solid durasteel slugs but then they slammed into his ship. The mysterious slugs disintegrated with high-explosive kinetic energy when they hit his vessel's defenses. Captain Forest was knocked from his feet and pitched forward against the bridge's viewport.

Screams and shouts came from the crew pit as the lights on the bridge flickered off for a second. Several crew members were sprawled out across the deck, having been knocked off of their feet from the impact.

Through the viewport Forrest witnessed a horrifying site. A slug the size of a light-freighter shot past the port side turrets of his Star Destroyer and raced out into the void. Several smaller slugs preceded its passage as it disappeared into the bleakness of space.

"Shields at seventeen percent." The XO reported. "Turbolasers are off-line but propulsion and navigation are still working. Confirmation of four hits."

Captain Forrest was sweating from what he was witnessing. That giant slug had been following the same vector as those first impacts. If it had connected with the _Eradicate_ they would have been vaporized.

"Scanners show the weapon is reloading." A sailor reported. The crew got back to their stations. A medic came in and worked on a man who appeared to have broken his ankle.

Captain Forrest wasn't going to let this attack on his vessel pass unchallenged. "Notify FleetOps. Tell them we are under attack and request immediate fire support assistance."

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_Abraham Lincoln_ Control Room, North West Territories, NAU

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The fireball in the sky was large enough to be seen by the naked eye. The technicians in the control room screamed with delight. The General shouted at them to calm themselves and focus on the loading of the second salvo.

"Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit!" A technician reported. "Four rounds confirmed impact. Primary round is a miss."

The General and the Engineer locked eyes at that announcement and gave each other a knowing grin.

"Radar shows the enemy vessel is drifting to port."

"Sensors show a significant decrease in its energy signature." reports came from around the control station.

"Back to it. We want to hit them again before they hit us." The General yelled.

The Engineer and the General stepped outside and raised their binoculars to view the weapon site. A train was rushing forward with the next salvo. Cranes were loading the projectiles haphazardly into the breach. Large plumes of freezing water were being sprayed across the twin barrels of the _Abraham Lincoln_. They had become superheated from the first salvo and a huge cloud of steam started to conceal the site from view.

"How is she?" The General asked.

"Still level, and her aim remains on the primary target. If it wasn't we'd be screwed. It's not like she can traverse." The Engineer said. "Heat levels are holding within operational perimeters."

"So she'll fire?"

"She'll fire."

Twenty-seven minutes after the _Abraham Lincoln_ spoke for the first time, she spoke again.

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**Outside Bexhill-On-Sea, East Sussex, United Kingdom, Earth**

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The sky here was glum thanks to a seemingly permanent layer of flat gray clouds. Intermittent rain showers threatened to cut through the foggy haze that was a mixture of soupy dew and chilling mist, Sensors showed the rain clouds were choked full of toxic chemicals swept across the local ocean from burning cities on the distant lesser continental mass. The landscape was a mix of peat bogs and scraggly fields of Earth crops. Along the coast smoke plumes crept into the sky from the nearby embattled settlement of Bexhill, a fitting setting for the duty he had to perform today.

Captain Yutu stood in front of the orderly formations of stormtroopers and saluted the Union Jack as it was lowered by a United Kingdom color guard.. The Star Destroyer _Purgatory_ hovered silently behind the Imperial formations. He heard several astonished gasps from the crowd as he whipped of the Imperial salute. The locals had quietly informed him that it was the same salute that had been used by an enemy of these people during the last century.

Across the parade ground, King William V and the interim Prime Minister Rufus Shacklebolt saluted the Imperial Martian banner as it was hoisted in the place of their own national emblem. The civilian politician wore one of those Terran style business suits with the piece of cloth some Terrans wore wrapped around their necks, as if to make for an easy strangulation. The King wore a bright red military uniform adorned with several medals, which Yutu had been surprised to learn included pilot wings. An unusual hobby for a monarch, he thought. Their salutes were crisp and seemed to be designed to shade the eyes as well as show that they were unarmed.

Formations of blue-gray camouflaged Earth troopers stood in solid ranks behind their civilian leaders. The trooper's faces were set in stone. No doubt each of them was a highly trained professional angered by the capitulation of the government. Their lack of complaint or protest illustrated only their level of professionalism, not their level of acceptance. A platoon of AT-STs stationed around the parade ground trained their blasters on the British troopers to ensure the Terrans didn't have a last minute change of heart.

In a field half a kilometer away a battery of Earth artillery fired a barrage. The salvo was in no way a salute to the proceedings that were underway here. Instead the heavy slugs arced down on rebel positions within the Bexhill Refugee Camp that was concentrated and walled in along the southern British coast.

Yutu's gaze moved in that direction. A haze of smoke and the sounds of heavy street fighting drifted from that direction. He thanked the Emperor that it wasn't any of his men assigned to clear out that nest of rebellion. The roads leading to the camp were lined with British troopers and a scattering of their wheeled armored vehicles and tracked hovertanks. They stood guard over an unending column of misery. Thousands of refugees were being forcibly evicted from their shantytown and force marched into the waiting holds of dozens of _Marl-_class and _BFF-1_ heavy freighters for their journey to the medical screeners manning Luna Base on the local moon.

Yutu smiled at a job well done. Intelligence had shown that the British, and he still had no idea how they derived the monikers British or English from United Kingdom, were on the edge of collapse. Their surviving members of Parliament had been terrified of the genocidal violence that had broken out across the small body of water that seperated them from the larger continental mass. He had personally ordered the orbital bombardment of the island nation to increase at the same time the vulnerable Earth nation was being swamped by a tidal wave of refugees from the violence in France. Civil war had erupted across the island when the Empire had offered negotiations for terms of a cease-fire.

He stared at the King, with his head full of gray hair mixed with a blonde from his youth, and his wife, an attractive woman who went by the title of Queen Catherine. They both attempted to keep a stiff upper lip but their eyes glared at Yutu from across the parade ground. It was no secret that the English Royals had opposed the capitulation. Yutu had been surprised, though, when he learned that the Royals had no say in their government and were simply ceremonial figureheads. A constitutional monarchy that took its monarchy for granted was abhorred in the Home Galaxy. Palpatine would have never allowed the Imperial Senate such power and Emperor Yos hadn't even bothered with establishing any sort of civilian governing body larger than the Culter City Council, which was inept as it was useless.

All power in the Empire lay with the strong, and that meant the monarchy. The chaos of the Clone Wars had shown the galaxy the folly of leaving power in the hands of the beings.

The British Prime Minister, the real power in this land, was much more affable to the Imperial offer. The third Prime Minister to lead the United Kingdom since the war began, after the death and resignation of the two before him, had eagerly grasped at the offer as long as it included an immediate cessation of the destruction of English cities and the deportation of hundreds of thousands of foreign mouths they couldn't feed. Yutu had agreed. They could always start blasting again if negotiations soured.

A band started playing the United Kingdom's anthem as the King and his Prime Minister walked across the open field. Yutu, leading a small cadre of Imperial officers, advanced as well, trying not to wince as the wailing music from a local bag-like instrument assaulted his ears. In the center of the parade ground a canopy had been set up over a long table manned by Imperial clerks and some English bureaucrats. The table was covered in both flimsiplast and paper documents that awaited their signatures.

Yutu was eager to get started. He was dealing with these earthlings from a position of power and wanted them to know it. Shacklebolt offered his hand, which Yutu ignored. In a few moments the British politician would be out of a job anyway. Yutu did shake William's hand, though, as royalty and strength were traits the Empire would always respect.

"Captain Yutu." The Royal greeted him curtly in what would have passed for a Core world accent back on Mars.

"Your Majesty. Am I to understand that you have both read and agree with the contents of these documents?" Yutu asked in an accent he shared with the Terran king.

"Yes, of course. Very fair. I must say." Shacklebolt said eagerly.

"They have been read. Whether or not they are agreeable is a subject up for much debate." The King replied much more somberly.

"The time for debate has long passed. Wouldn't you agree, your Highness?" Yutu replied.

"So it has. What are your terms, sir?" William asked for the benefit of the British news crew that was filming the proceedings, as well as for the holocam droids that flitted about. Yutu was surprised to see a strange flying camdroid amongst their number that had the alternate basic letters of BBC etched on its side. He hadn't been aware the British had such droids.

"Emperor Yos the first, ruler of Imperial Mars offers you these terms. First, an immediate cessation of all hostilities between the 1st Martian Empire and the United Kingdom and her Commonwealth of Nations." Yutu tried not to frown. The Commonwealth of Nations had dissolved for the most part over the past few days. Australia, Kenya, India, and South Africa had all resigned their status. Belize had been destroyed by a limited Base Delta Zero. New Zealand and many of the Pacific Island members had already been overrun by the Empire. Jamaica and other Caribbean island nations had joined the North American Union. Gibralter had surrendered to Spain. Nigeria and South Africa had even declared war on the United Kingdom. Realistically the only ones joining the Empire would unfortunately be the ones standing before him today.

"Second, you are to accept vassal status within the Martian Empire. All laws and taxation are to be amended to Imperial Law and standards and all governing bodies are to disband and in their place shall be set an Imperial Governor. King William V will take the title of Moff and be given supreme governance of his nation under Imperial guidance."

"What about Parliament? That was never a condition of our agreement." Shacklebolt whined, as he realized that he was out of a job.

"Perhaps you think you are being treated unfairly." Yutu asked as he placed his hand upon his sidearm. Several stormtroopers stepped forward.

"No."

"Good. It would be unfortunate to have to leave a much larger garrison here in replacement of your armed forces."

Shacklebolt's face was crestfallen. "This deal's getting worse all the time."

In other circumstances the Moff position would have been a great honor. Yutu wondered if the King would see it that way. William would be given the chance to be a buffer between his beings and the Empire. He was to govern from Windsor Castle, the site where the Empire was currently building a small garrison complex from which to rule the island nation. Moff William V would be kept firmly under the Emperor's thumb for the remainder of his days.

"Third, all military and police forces of the United Kingdom will be placed under the command of Imperial officers for the duration of hostilities on the planet Earth and for a time afterward to be designated by his Royal Highness, Emperor Yos I."

Already British forces under his command were storming the massive refugee camps the nation had officially set up to house its foreign population that had been displaced by the war. In reality had been used to concentrate its large second and third generation immigrant population. On another nearby island British forces were massing along the border of a country named Ireland, ready to overrun that smaller nation and deliver its populace to their new Imperial masters.

"Fourth, as of this moment the United Kingdom has disavowed and withdrawn itself from all Terran-based alliances, whether they be political, military, or trade. This includes your involvement in the European Union, the United Nations, and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. You will directly declare war on all enemies of the Empire. The ability to create and bind new treaties shall henceforth only reside in the United Kingdom's protector, The 1st Martian Empire."

William's face was set in stone. His jaw was clenched and his eyes stared vibroblades into Yutu's. The Prime Minister nodded his empty head in ready acceptance of the Empire's terms. The fourth term was moot by now anyways. Forces from the main continental mass had already begun firing long range missiles into the borders of the United Kingdom. Imperial TIE fighters had engaged a squadron of Belgian Mirage 6 airspeeders over the English Channel this very morning. British forces abroad, especially those in the NAU, had offered their paroles to their hosts in mass, much to Yutu's disgust. These stubborn Terrans obviously didn't understand the futility of fighting against the Empire's inevitable victory.

"Last, you will hand over a total of five million beings a year for five standard years, for the purposes of labor within the Martian Empire." Yutu waved a hand at the refugees being escorted onto the heavy freighters. The Brits had informed him they had expected to pull three hundred thousand from this one camp alone, a satisfactory first payment.

"Bunch of bloody wogs anyways." Shacklebolt said under his breath.

William turned to the politician with hate rising in his eyes. With a stiff upper lip and much reserve he spoke to his Prime Minister. "Be quiet man. Your dealings and mismanagement have signed the death warrants of so many of our fellow countrymen that I should have you in that line with the rest of those poor souls."

Yutu detected there was some kind of racism at work here. The skin tones of the refugees were obviously darker or tanner than the average English near-human. Back home, in the Empire, they had gotten speciesm down to an exact science, especially with High Human Culture, but discriminating against your own species solely on the basis of the color of another's skin was almost unheard of.

Yutu knew not to look a gift eopie in the mouth and ignored the small squabble, "As a gesture of good will, Emperor Yos has waved all raw material requirements due to your unique status of becoming the first ally of the Empire."

The United Kingdom had been so devastated by orbital strikes in the past few weeks that it was widely thought large scale mining efforts would be an impossible undertaking at this time. Besides, the Empire was starting to gather vast amounts of raw material through the use of slave labor across the inner solar system. Let whatever the English could dig up go towards rebuilding their civilization. The Empire certainly wasn't going to help.

"The terms we accept from you include the retention of your armed forces under your Highness's command with Imperial supervision, minus your nuclear arms." Not that they had any left. "And the retention of your royal family as de facto rulers of your lands under Imperial law with Imperial supervision. Failure to accept these terms shall result in an immediate resumption of hostilities up to and including a Base Delta Zero operation, such as those that were perpetuated on the areas known as Turkey and Central America." Yutu enjoyed the lethality of the threat, as well as the contrasting looks upon the faces of the two beings in front of him. Shacklebolt's shoulder's sagged until he looked like a beaten akk-dog, while the King maintained a strong bearing of strength and fortitude, though Yutu had no doubt that anger boiled beneath the surface.

"You offer harsh terms. You have made us a pariah amongst nations. Perhaps there will come a day when you will wish you weren't so cruel." William offered.

"Will you sign, sir?" Yutu's hand rested once more on his sidearm. This could fall apart at any moment. The British Royal would regret reneging but Yutu had little doubt he would live to see it. He waved his free hand towards the waiting treaties. The flimsiplast and paper flapped in the breeze.

"I will. But only to assure the future of this great land and its people." William took an offered stylus from an Imperial clerk and bent forward and signed the two copies of the treaty. Shacklebolt went next.

Yutu cared not why they signed as long as they did so. As senior present representative of the Empire he signed his name next to the King's. Several more officers signed as witnesses.

"Shall I present my sword in surrender?" The new Moff William V touched the hilt of the ceremonial weapon hitched to his waist.

"That won't be necessary, my Lord. You are, after all, an ally. Allies should be seen as being able to fight alongside each other should they not?" Yutu replied.

The former monarch turned to a steward, who brought forth several cups of tea for the dignitaries. Shacklebolt was escorted away by several British troopers.

"Indeed. Though I daresay Britain's soldiers won't be seeing your like on the battlefield any time soon." William said.

Yutu caught the underlying meaning in the King's statement. William assumed correctly that the British would be thrown away as blaster fodder in the Empire's wars, starting with the invasion and subjugation of the Irish that was set to kick off in a few hours. Oh, the Empire would fend off blunt attacks from the main continental mass and maintain a large garrison here but it was the Brits themselves who would have to put down the simmering tide of civil war that was quietly washing over their countryside. He did hope William would be able to keep control of his beings, otherwise the Empire would be forced to help out with a rather heavy hand.

"May I ask a personal question, Captain." William asked. "Something that may shine a new hope on this day."

"Of course. You may ask me anything, as long as it's something the Emperor is prepared to disclose." Yutu stood closer to the British leader for the holocams.

"It is regarding the First Lady of the NAU, Jill Harris. There are rumors that she has been abducted by forces under your command. A filthy tactic, if I may say so. She is, however, a close friend of my wife's. It would mean much to us to know her fate, and that of her children." William asked.

Yutu read the genuine concern on the older near-human's face. "They have not been harmed. I give you my word. They are in fact under the protection of the heir presumptive, Princess Phasma Yos."

"So she was rescued. I thought Harris was mad for kidnapping the Emperor's daughter in the first place."

"A position I wouldn't hesitate in telling the Emperor when you are presented to him, if I were you. On the same subject, you would be well advised to hand over any intelligence you have on the NAU President's whereabouts." Yutu advised. His own men had been combing through the surviving records of the United Kingdom's MI5 and MI6 ever since they had set down on this island, to no avail.

"As far I know he is somewhere in the North American Union. Other than that I cannot say."

Yutu studied the man's face for a long moment, hunting for any sign of deceit. In the end he couldn't detect any signs of subterfuge in his new ally's features. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. "My Lord, I believe your new guards are waiting to take you back to the safety of Windsor."

A squad of stormtroopers advanced and took up flanking positions on the royal. Queen Catherine was brought forward by a pair of Imperial officers. "It's time for you to leave, sir." One of them said.

"And so it is."

The royals were led to a nearby _Lambda_ shuttle. Yutu watched them go. He remembered with some forbearance that William's nation had once been the most powerful empire on this planet. For several centuries that empire had ruled the oceans and colonies of this world. There was a lesson here, Yutu thought. He wondered what it was.

As William and Catherine walked up the shuttle's loading ramp Yutu watched the sun finally set on the British Empire.

He turned towards a high pitched scream coming out of the west. Two Royal Air Force airspeeders hugged the coast as they approached Bexhill. Yutu narrowed his eyes to make out their escort and was surprised to see a pair of TIE/In Starfighters flying alongside the abo bombers.

The airspeeders dropped their load of bombs somewhere in the interior of the town. Bright flashes arose from their impacts followed seconds later by the soft crump of their detonations. The flight flew away to the north.

Yutu wondered if there were more mixed patrols like that guarding the channel to the south. The country on the other side, France, if he remembered correctly, had erupted into a horrifying genocidal civil war. Of course this hadn't stopped it from launching a few missile at the United Kingdom that the _Purgatory_ had easily brushed aside. One country down, one hundred and ninety-five more to go, he thought.

It was time to go. His duty was done here.

He turned and rejoined his guard detail of naval troopers and led them toward a waiting _Nu-_class attack shuttle. He boarded quickly and took a seat. The pilot launched into the sky for the short trip back to the _Purgatory._ Yutu leaned forward and his seat and peered out the pilot's viewport. The shuttle weaved through a line of _Theta-_class AT-AT barges descending on their new ally. Thousands of troopers were being landed to help their new vassal keep control of their country.

Vassals. Slavery by another name, Yutu thought as the _Nu_ entered the _Purgatory's_ assault hanger. He disembarked a few moments later. The hanger was a bustle of activity as Imperial troops embarked for their occupation of the island nation below.

A Navy Lieutenant ran up to Yutu and whipped off a quick salute. "Sir, with Captain Delvardos' compliments, he requests your presence on the bridge as soon as you are able."

"Lead the way, Lieutenant." Yutu fell into step beside the junior officer on their way to the turbolifts. His guard force had disappeared as soon as he was safely aboard the Imperial warship.

It didn't take long, less than two minutes by Yutu's reckoning, and they were walking onto the deck of the Star Destroyer's bridge. MSE-6 mouse droids skittered out of his path. Captain Delvardos, the Star Destroyer's commander, saw him enter and came over immediately. Yutu noticed one of the new Commissar officers escorting his fellow Captain. The political officer hung back but remained within earshot as Delvardos greeted Yutu.

"This just came in as you were landing." Delvardos held out a datapad. On it was the transcription of a newly issued 'Alert All Commands' priority signal.

Yutu scanned it quickly. "The _Eradicate_? One of the Ploo's Vic 2s if I recall right. How long ago?"

"Twenty minutes. Her shields are almost down and they're working on restoring her turbolasers. They are staying on station but they claim this mystery weapon is showing signs of preparing another attack. They're requesting assistance and we're the closest without immediate duties. We can be over that area of the planet within five to six minutes."

"Make it so. Signal them that we're on our way." Yutu said. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused, mentally preparing himself for battle.

The Empire would strike back.

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_Abraham Lincoln_ Control Room, North West Territories, NAU

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"Radar and coast spotters over the eastern seaboard are reporting the approach of a second target. ETA in two minutes." A voice reported from the communication terminal of the control station. The feed was put up on the main screen.

A map of North America loomed before them. Icons showed the positions of several Star Destroyers moving about the continent to the south of them. Some of them disappeared as the active ground-based radar stations tracking them were knocked out by orbital bombardment. Over the coast of Nova Scotia one of the spaceships was quickly moving towards them. The Engineer knew he was staring at the onrushing death of the _Abraham Lincoln_.

"Will we be able to get the third salvo off before that bastard gets here?" The General asked.

"Not a chance. It'll be over us twenty minutes before we're ready to fire."

"Shit." The General turned to the control room. "What's _Abe's_ status, people?"

"We've lost thirty percent of our generators." Technicians reported professionally, though the Engineer detected a raising sense of fear in their voices.

"Forty percent of the compulsators have been blown. They'll each take a day to switch out."

"We've got a few fires in the woods around the gun's carriage. The security units are keeping people away from them."

"We've detected warping in both barrels."

"Dammit! How much?" The Engineer shouted. The biggest fear the project had was that the rapid firing of the railgun would produce enough heat to significantly warp the barrels out of alignment. They had been designed to fire every twelve hours at a minimum risk to safety and damage.

"Zero point zero nine percent misalignment. We've got twelve fire crews spraying the barrels down with lake water but those barrels are red hot." A technician reported.

The Engineer and the General turned and looked at each other. A silent question was asked and answered. The primary target was no longer aligned with the massive weapon and there wasn't any way to correct their aim in time. The _Abraham Lincoln_ was dying. They needed to put her out of her misery.

The General reached for a telephone on a nearby wall and dialed the command for the complex's PA system. "Now here this. Load the third salvo. I repeat. Load third salvo. All personnel are ordered to evacuate immediately. This is not a drill. Evacuation protocols are in effect."

A rush of activity exploded around the room. Nonessential technicians grabbed their gear and fled the room. The firing team stayed at their position. The sound of helicopters rushing away to the south permeated the room from the nearby helipads. The Engineer hoped the General kept one of them at the ready for their own flight. On the monitors around the room's central screen the fourth and fifth loading teams were reversing their locomotives away from the railgun. Army teams were boarding trucks and driving in every direction out of the valley.

But the main screen still showed the third loading team at their station, driving the massive projectiles into the steaming breech block of the _Abraham Lincoln_. They would never make it away from there in time. The Engineer knew he was watching dead men work. How long before he joined them, he wondered?

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**Bridge, **_**Imperial**_**_ I_-class SD **_**Purgatory,**_** in orbit above mystery weapon site, Earth**

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"That is a huge planetary weapon." Captain Delvardos said, an understatement if Yutu had ever heard one.

"Nasty looking, too. I'd say three or four times bigger than a v-180 or the v-150 Planet Defenders that KDY puts out back in the Old Empire." Yutu admitted. He was frustrated that the earthlings had been successful in hiding such a conspicuous weapon on their planet, even after almost three months of war. It was his job to make sure the abos didn't have such surprises in store for the Empire.

"You know if I didn't know any better I guess that was a _planechanga."_ Delvardos observed.

"By the Core, those haven't been seen since the Hutt-Xim conflict and certainly not in the last twenty-five thousand years or so." Yutu gasped in shock at seeing such a legendary weapon upon such a backrocket world. "They predate even the Old Republic."

"Indeed, and would you look at this? The _Eradicate_ just sent this over." He held out a palm holoimager. It projected a red 3D image of the projectiles that had nearly hit their sister Star Destroyer. Archaic steel mixed with tungsten and titanium covering a primitive explosive core. "The abos have resorted to throwing rocks at us."

"Rocks that nearly took out the _Eradicate._ How are their repairs coming along?" Yutu asked.

"Captain Forrest says they'll have their turbolasers online again shortly. Their shields are up to twenty-five percent and climbing. They've retreated to the other side of that giant lake down there and are standing by for your orders." Captain Delvardos reported.

"And the second salvo didn't come anywhere near them?"

"Captain Forrest says it didn't even come close. The Terrans blasted their second barrage of slugs along the same trajectory as the first. Forrest had enough sense not to stay in the same spot and get hit again."

"Strange. The weapon looks like it has a limited traverse." Yutu observed.

"Captains, we are detecting evidence that the earthlings are abandoning their posts." A crewman reported from the crew pit below.

Yutu focused on the bridge holoimager showing the weapon. A crew of near-humans could be seen loading slugs into the weapon's breech.

"I do believe they're about to blast again." Delvardos said.

"And spike their cannon at the same time." Yutu replied. "Let them. But watch their traverse. If they so much as move a centimeter towards us or the _Eradicate_ open up on them with all your batteries."

"Aye, aye. So we're going to sit back and watch the show?"

"As long as there's no danger to us I don't see why not. Let's see what we can learn from the abos' performance. And then we'll close the curtain on this little play the Terrans are putting on for us." Yutu grinned.

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_Abraham Lincoln_ Control Room, Earth

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"Standing by to fire." One of the last technicians at their post reported.

"Primary target still thirteen percent aligned."

The General turned to the Engineer and held out his hand. "Third times' the charm. It's been an honor."

The Engineer took it. "They'll think twice after this."

"I know." and then to the control team, "Fire!"

Miles away the _Abraham Lincoln_ spoke for the last time.

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_**Purgatory**_** Bridge**

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"E chu ta. Would you look at that." Delvardos exclaimed as eleven high explosive slugs flashed past the starboard bow. They missed the _Purgatory_ by several kilometers and vanished out into the void.

The holoimager showed the site of the planetary weapon's blasting platform. One of the mighty cannon's barrels slagged downwards away from its companion. Fires raged out of control between the base of the railgun and the nearby lake shore. Small dirt roadways were clogged with Terrans fleeing the site in military, wheeled gravtrucks. Chopters flittered away to the south.

"You may blast when ready, Captain. I recommend launching your TIE bomber squadron to hit any outlying part of that base your turbolasers miss." Yutu suggested.

Delvardos turned to his executive officer. "Make it so."

Yutu watched the officer talk to his FlightOps controller, only half listening to Delvardos order his crew into action. He noticed the nearby Commissar watching the events on the bridge unfold but he put the political officer aside in his thoughts. Instead, Yutu tried to make sense of the strange attack, which continued even after its target moved out of its line of fire. _Was this a diversion for something else,_ he wondered?

"Dip the bow. I want all six heavy batteries blasting in unison. On my mark." Delvardos ordered the crew.

Yutu watched the horizon rise above the warship's bow. All six turrets of heavy turbolasers were fixed on the target ahead.

"Blast!" Delvardos ordered.

Twelve large blasts of energy ripped through Earth's atmosphere.

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Outside _Abraham Lincoln's_ Control Room, Earth

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The Engineer watched in horror as a lifetime of work was destroyed from orbit. Even five miles away the impacts of the heavy phaser bombardment shook the ground. He caught a metal railing outside the control room to balance himself.

Around him personnel ran in every direction, most of them fleeing towards the last few evacuation helicopters that had remained behind for them. Sirens and klaxons squealed like banshees over the screams of helicopter engines, filling the late Canadian evening with ear-splitting chaos.

The Engineer wasn't in any hurry. He had nowhere to go. His entire professional life had been put into the _Abraham Lincoln_, the rail splitter.

He had tears in his eyes as he watched the twin barrels split and crash back into the waters of Great Bear Lake. A moment later the thunderclap sound of the enemy bombardment reached their station from across the valley.

From the hatch of a nearby helicopter the General shouted for the Engineer to move faster.

A train whistled in the distance as it tried to flee the valley to the south. For one moment too long he thought the high-pitched whine in the sky was part of the train's flight from the distant gun carriage.

The first bomb blast, a hundred yards behind him, hurled him, face first into the side of the General's helicopter. He felt things break: his nose, several ribs, his leg, an arm. He opened his mouth to scream. Another bomb went off, this one even closer. . .

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_Thor's Well_ Targeting and Acquisition, Port Radium, Eastern Shore of the Great Bear Lake, Earth

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"Target has moved into range." The Air Force Tech Sergeant reported to his commander. They had been observing the long range battle that had raged across the lake from them.

"Which one is it?" The Colonel asked.

"Target Alpha. Target Bravo remains over the _Abraham Lincoln_ and is currently engaged in neutralizing that position." He replied. He deliberately used neutral terminology to distance himself from the slaughter of hundreds of his countrymen a few miles away.

_Keep your mind on your job, you'll soon have your revenge_, he told himself.

"Time to target?" The officer asked.

"Two five point five seconds."

"How many tubes are sighted on target?"

"Current enemy flight path will put him over Alpha and Charlie Tube in twenty-three seconds. Bravo Tube is a no go on engagement." The Sergeant reported. He sighed. He had hoped all three would be perfectly aligned with the target for the full effect of their project. But he also knew getting two of them on the enemy was akin to a miracle.

"We are a go on firing. Fire all three tubes for effect." The Colonel ordered. He took a key from around his neck and placed it in a switch on the firing console.

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant did likewise with a key of his own. He knew they would never be allowed to get that third shot off later anyway, so might as well make the most of it. With a nod from the Colonel they turned the keys in unison.

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___Thor's Well_-Alpha Tube

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The detonation code initiated a series of firing sequences that started a nuclear chain reaction in the three devices.

The trio of nuclear weapons had been at the bottom of each of the specially constructed, five mile deep tubes for longer than anyone on Earth had known there were aliens in their solar system. Once the Empire arrived every precaution had been taken to ensure they went undiscovered. The effort had been so successful that the three weapons were the last nuclear arsenal the Earth possessed.

High above each device, near the surface of each firing shaft, sat a solid, nine thousand kilogram bolt of carbon steel Alloy 1090, the hardest metal on Earth. It was capped with a tungsten tip.

When the directed blasts from each of the synchronized thirty-five megaton explosions hit the bolts they shot them into orbit at six times the speed each bolt required to hit escape velocity.

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_**Purgatory**_** Bridge, in orbit above the ruins of the **_**Abraham Lincoln**_

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"Captains, we are picking up a subterranean explosion to the east!" a crewman shouted.

"Blast signature indicates controlled detonation of multiple nuclear devices." The XO reported.

"EMP signature across entire target area." Another crewman said.

Yutu and Delvardos bumped into each other as they spun quickly back to the holoimager. Yutu's eyes narrowed as he noticed the nearly impossible speed of several objects above the blast.

"Raise shields to. . ."

Yutu never finished his order. Outside the forward viewports a cataclysmic explosion filled their view to their port side. Yutu glared in rage as he realized what was happening.

The first projectile sliced through the _Eradicate's_ diminished shields like hot durasteel through bantha butter. It plowed into the _Victory II__'s_ bow to the fore of its assault hanger, through dozens of decks containing the ship's tractor beam batteries and forward tibanna storage tanks. It reemerged through the warship's forward sensor station. Secondary explosions rippled throughout the _Eradicate_ following the devastating slug's path.

A second slug impacted the Star Destroyer near the aft end of her hull. This time the slug had no shields to slow it down as it buried itself deep in the belly of the warship's engineering section. It came to a stop nine decks below the ship's bridge, but not before ripping open the Star Destroyer's hypermatter annihilation reactor and secondary fusion drive.

The resulting explosion flashed across the northern hemisphere of the planet below, taking the lives of the _Eradicate's_ 6,107 crew members in an instant.

The sailors in the _Purgatory's_ crew pit gasped in horror as officers and CPOs growled at them to stay at their stations.

"Move us to higher orbit." Delvardos shouted as he held a hand aloft to shield his eyes from the bright glare of the _Eradicate's_ death throes. "Scan for survivors."

A second later Yutu felt the vibrations under his feet increase as the _Purgatory_ clawed for altitude. He flinched as green concentric circles emerged from the shields as high-velocity debris from the _Eradicate_ slammed into their defenses. There would be no survivors, he thought as he felt an icy grip on his heart.

"What was that, sir?" The ship's Commissar quietly asked Yutu. "Moff Seco will not be happy about what has happened here."

Yutu couldn't care less what the Ploo Moff thought about this as he was answerable only to the Emperor and he would want answers about the Terrans new capabilities. How dare these primitive outworlders strike at the Empire like this. "My guess is that it was some kind of nuclear-propelled slug. Had to destroy its own launcher on take off."

"How do the Terrans still possess nuclear weapons? Your Bureau of Operations guaranteed the Theater Commander that they had all been destroyed before the invasion. Moff Seco will be most displeased." The Commissar's tone issued a not-so-subtle warning.

Yutu wasn't a man to take threats lightly. "I do not care what Moff Seco thinks." The Commissar flinched. The man reminded Yutu of the old Imperial Navy's loyalist bootlickers back in the Home Galaxy. "I do not fall under the command of Moff Seco. I answer to the Emperor himself. You should be more concerned with the loss of one of our fleet's Star Destroyers rather than what the Theater Commander cares about." Yutu's voice grew into a growl at the underling. The new placement of political officers amongst the armed forces of Mars had left a bitter taste in his mouth, one which he was not in the mood to hide.

"I meant no offense, Captain." The Commissar slinked away to the far side of the bridge, no doubt to comm Moff Seco.

Yutu glared at him and then turned his attention back to Delvardos. "Captain, bring your blasters to bare on the area those slugs came from. The _Purgatory_ shall perform a limited Base Delta Zero across the whole shore of the lake down there. I want that thing boiled away."

"Captain, I need authorization to perform a BDZ. Ever since the _Insertion_ razed that refugee camp last month Moff Seco has demanded that permission for all major bombardments pass through his office." Delvardos responded.

"As a Director of the Bureau of Operations I grant you my authorization. Seco can deal with me if he has an issue." Yutu replied. He spotted the Commissar studying him from across the bridge.

"Aye, aye, Captain. Gunnery, prepare for a Base Delta Zero on target area." Delvardos ordered. There was a chorus of confirmations from the crew pit. "Blast at will."

The heavy turbolaser batteries opened up one after another for two minutes until the lake below was nothing more than molten glass. Fires raged through the wilderness for hundreds of kilometers in every direction. There was a scattering of near-human settlements in the area but what earthlings had been in the area were flash-fried by the superheated impacts of the _Purgatory's_ blasters.

"Cease blasting." Delvardos called out once the target had been neutralized.

"Prepare my shuttle." Yutu told the FlightOps crew man below him. He turned back to the ship's commander. "I will return to Mars and tell the Emperor himself. He is not going to be pleased about losing one of his destroyers."

He had felt fear when Yos had learned of Phasma's kidnapping but had earned the trust of the Emperor again when he had returned his daughter. What would the Emperor do when he learned Yutu had been involved in the loss of one of Mars' ships-of-the-line?

"May you find the Emperor understanding. Surely he will realize this was a sinister trap on the part of the Terrans and will find no fault in our actions." Delvardos held out his hand again.

Yutu shook it. No doubt the man was remembering the way Palpatine treated the bearers of bad news. Emperor Yos may be more understanding, coming from the Imperial Navy as he did, but he would be looking for someone to blame for this catastrophe.

Yutu left the bridge, knowing full well he was placing his head on the chopping block once more.

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Helm Suite, _Sweet Skako_ Colony Vessel, Geosynchronous Orbit around Earth 2, fifteen days later

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Nabrun Bekan had the huge colony ship on autopilot as he stood watch alone in the vessel's control center. The _Sweet Skako_ was currently parked in orbit directly over the high density terraforming project on the surface below. The ship was empty except for a skeleton crew of less than a dozen Morseerian and Skakoan crew members. They stayed in support of the thousands of colonists dirtside.

Usually when he was on duty, Nabrun was bored out of his mind with nothing more to do than watch the thousands of pounds of defrosted carbon dioxide slowly flow past the cockpit and out into the void as it was bled away by the terraforming effort on the world below.

But today was different. Nabrun smiled as he looked at the nice straight lines of white powder that he had arranged on the console. He certainly was thankful he had met Brakatak that night at the Long Jump Casino. And what a fool that Gran had turned out to be. To think he was willing to trade so much of this new Earth-Spice in exchange for Nabrun looking the other way while that pirate crew nicked some cloning vats. Nabrun would have happily paid twice the credits he had spent on glittertim for the new alien spice.

He put his head forward and pressed his left nostril closed with his finger. He still wasn't used to the odd sensation as he snorted one of the lines up his nose but the way the revolutionary spice made him feel was worth the momentary discomfort. Immediately after he snorted it his entire body felt alive and electrical. It made him believe he could pull the ears off of a gundark if he tried

He leaned back in his seat and put his feet up on the console, careful not to disrupt the remaining lines of Earth Spice. He reached over and flipped on the cockpit's audiocasters. A cover of some Earth song by the Martian band The Sol Covers poured forth from the speakers. Nabrun had heard this one before and had liked it. It was originally by some _stoopa_ earther named Bowee or something like that. Nabrun couldn't remember and at the moment didn't really care.

It seemed that the lights on the console started blinking in time with the music. Had he programmed them to do that? He couldn't remember. He closed his eyes and focused on the music.

"_This is Nabrun Bekar to ground control._" Nabrun sang along with the music, changing the lyrics to fit his elated mood.

"Collision alert." An automated warning sounded out from behind him.

"_And I'm floating in a most peculiar way. _. ." Nabrun giggled, ignoring everything except for the music.

"Repeat collision alert. Collision alert." The electronic voice repeated louder.

"_And the stars look very different today_. . ." Nabrun opened his eyes and looked out the forward viewport.

The stars actually did look very different today. A tiny section of the void was missing the specks of light that were normally all he had to look at. That blackness seemed to be growing. Something was coming directly at him.

That wasn't right. What was he supposed to do in this situation again? He couldn't think straight. He tried to shake the spice from his mind.

"_Am I sitting in my tin can_." he giggled.

The two hundred tonne slug slammed into the cockpit of the _Sweet Skako_ like a rancor ripping through flimsiplast. Traveling at a speed that was almost invisible to the naked eye, the large slug and its smaller companions smashed their way through the volatile science and engineering decks of the colony vessel in the span of a single heartbeat.

The cataclysmic eruption of the _Sweet Skako's_ fusion drive reactors lit up the Venusian sky like a second sun for several seconds. The explosion was visible even through the dense cloud banks that covered the Imperial colony on the surface. Dirtside on Venus, hundreds of Morseerian and Skakoan beings pressed up against high-density viewports to watch in terror as pieces of the starship started to burn up in the atmosphere.

Emergency distress signals full of urgent, panicking voices were sent to Mars. Messages were sent that help was on its way. But help would never arrive in time.

Twenty-seven minutes later another slug appeared on their subspace radars. It was traveling much too fast for any sort of evacuation to be attempted. It impacted the surface of Venus thirty kilometers from the colony and penetrated the planet's crust to a depth of twenty kilometers.

Within seconds the Morseerian and Skakoan species had been wiped out in the Milky Way.


	59. Cody 5

**Kingseat, North Island, New Zealand, Earth**

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"I will not blast upon Target Auckland without the proper orders, Major." Cody glared at the mongrel officer. For the millionth time this past month he fought the urge not to throttle the Commissar.

"As the 212th's Commissar and loyalty officer, I am ordering you to do so." Major Hurler, who was in the midst of his first dirtside combat deployment, answered.

"I have overall situational and tactical command of all forces currently employed in New Zealand. As of this time the 212th is at a standstill in the Pacific region until the Theater Commander's surge attacks out of the Target Cities are complete."

"Yes, but Operation _Piper_ has finally resumed now that the Ebola outbreak has been contained. Are you refusing to carry out your duties, Clone?" That last word was tinged with so much disgust that Cody wanted to bash Hurler's face in.

"You and I both know _Piper_ has relocated the majority of its assets and operations to the newly created United Protectorate under that abo Moff the Emperor set up. Still, we are maintaining _Piper_ operations to a limited degree in the interior of this island in areas we already control. We sent six thousand of the abos to Luna Base just yesterday." Cody took a deep, steady breath to contain his rising frustration. "We're also holding another fifty thousand in that containment camp south of here."

"Six thousand! Six thousand! When you took Hawaii you clones delivered over two million slaves to the Empire. You delivered several times that amount during your drive across the western and central Pacific. Now you offer a measly fifty thousand and still claim you are performing your duty to your utmost ability. What a load of bantha poodoo." Hurler screamed. His hot breath hung in the chilly air.

Cody clenched his hands into fists but said nothing.

At the moment they were on a high ridge overlooking the southern shore of Manukau Harbor. The heavy clouds of toxic smoke that encircled this battered world were thinner in its southern hemisphere, which allowed for an almost sunny day on the north island. Small aquatic craft plied the harbor's northern coast. Snow covered the edges of both sides of the bay and both sides' fortifications. This hemisphere was moving towards its winter season though locals were claiming the recent heavy snow fall was out of the normal for this region of their world. Despite the almost picturesque surroundings Cody wished he could have thrown the Commissar officer into the icy water below and be rid of him.

The Commissar scum did have a point to a degree. _Piper_ had restarted. Luna Base and Mars were once again processing new slaves. But no one had told the Theater Commander and so Moff Seco refused to spare the resources to transport the slaves that Cody's 212th Assault Legion rounded up. On top of that, thanks to a strange sense of growing camaraderie, the 212th wasn't eager to round up any of the native New Zealanders, though the locals called themselves Kiwis for some reason.

Before the latest round of round-up had begun the locals had been quite pleasant. Add to that the fact that for some reason they spoke with a _mando'a_ accent and a lot of them, especially the native Maori tribesmen, looked just like the clones. General Morrison, commander of the forces defending Auckland could have been Cody's father, the resemblance was so striking.

The Kiwis had openly traded and socialized with the troopers under Cody's command and he still maintained a cease blast with the remains of the New Zealand Armed Forces, which held Auckland here in the north and Wellington in the south. Now since the arrival of the Commissar officers the previously pacified interior was a hotbed for native rebels deploying everything from roadway bombs and ambushes to snipers and Being Bombs.

Cody's veteran troopers were paying the price for the Commissar's stupidity. Eighteen Kamino clones had been killed in action this last week alone. Troopers who should have been enjoying their retirement were instead getting injured and killed on this backrocket world for a mission that amounted to a grand slave-grab. They deserved better than this. Cody was sick of taking orders that got his _vode_ killed.

"My men are doing their duty, Major." Cody raised his right hand and extended his index finger. He jabbed the Commissar in the chest at the mention of the officer's Imperial rank. "I take personal umbrage with anyone who claims they aren't carrying out their duty to the Empire. Let me remind you that it is my men that are getting killed following your officers' stoopa orders."

Standing nearby, Birgann and the rest of Cody's staff crowded closer and looked like they were on the verge of stepping in if this altercation got physical. The Major and Cody's mutual hatred of each other had been simmering underneath the surface for weeks now and the other staff troopers had been waiting for the explosion.

"Your _clones_ follow orders all right, but not with the proper Imperial spirit. The only raids that have produced any measurable result have been those commanded by my fellow commissars, the real _men_ of the Empire." Hurler threw back. Though Cody was physically larger and wearing stormtrooper armor it was obvious the laser-brained mongrel wasn't going to back down from anyone he saw as his inferior.

There was some truth to his words, Cody begrudgingly admitted to himself. The New Zealanders had learned that any patrol that was made up of nothing but troopers would usually leave the locals alone. Most of the time they would simply go out of their way to avoid contact with each other. But a patrol led by an officer wearing the Imperial gray usually meant trouble. The Kiwi rebels had discovered that if they managed to take out one of the unarmored officers life would get, if not better, then at least longer for them. At the same time, almost all of the clones' recent casualties had been sustained during raids led by the commissars.

One such patrol had been ambushed near the town of Gisborne just this morning. A Commissar, a Lieutenant Abeloth, had been blasted by a slugthrower through his chest and shoulder. The slugs had clipped the top portion of the officer's lung and he had to be medevaced to an orbiting _MedStar_ frigate. That incident was what brought the hateful little Major into Cody's presence.

"Because of your clone shortcomings an Imperial officer has been wounded and at the moment may lie dying. An appropriate reprisal for such a heinous act would be the capture of that abo city down there and destruction of the pathetic army that defends it." Hurler pointed to Auckland.

Bly, who had been listening to the altercation from the sidelines chose that moment to step in. "And commit ourselves to an unsupported assault with no hope of reinforcements that will undoubtedly lead to the deaths of more troopers? That doesn't sound like a hyperlane I want to follow."

"Stormtroopers are only meant for one thing," Hurler answered the other Marshall Commander. "Following orders. Besides, you're just clones."

Cody actually saw red for a moment. His fingers clenched the front of Hurler's uniform and he yanked the smaller man close. His free hand rose to strike him.

At the last second Bly grabbed Cody by the elbow. Cody felt ashamed that he had lost his cool. He had been bred to follow the orders of the chain-of-command. This had never happened to him in battle while his brothers fell all around him. _  
_

"We may be clones but we have earned the right to be called _men_ on a thousand battlefields. What have you ever done, _mongrel?"_ Cody put as much bile as he could into his last word and then pushed Hurler backwards. The political officer stumbled and landed on his _shebs_ at Cody's feet.

Hurler avoided the question entirely. "How dare you lay your hands on me? You may have the superior rank for now but that won't last long once Moff Seco hears about this." Hurler regained his feet, "Palpatine's Grace, I can take care of this now myself."

Hurler reached for the sidearm at his belt but Cody had been training and fighting his whole life and he was a lot faster. Hurler blinked and the next thing he knew he was looking down the barrel of Cody's DC-17 hand blaster. Hurler's own weapon was halted only halfway out of its holster. "Don't kriffing try it or it'll be the last thing you ever do, I promise."

"You filthy clone scum!" Hurler growled from behind tight, frightened lips. "Who do you think you are?"

"I am Cody. I have led tens of thousands of men and women of a hundred different species into battle. I have commanded walkers, airspeeders, hover-tanks and Star Destroyers. I have conquered Christophis, Teth, Ryloth, Geonosis, Umbarra, Kiros and Utapau. I saved Rishi, Kamino, Felucia, Saleucami, Coronet and fought on worlds from Wild Space to the Deep Core. I have led my _men_ inside of two Empires, a Republic and two separate galaxies. My enemies have learned to fear me. And I have never been defeated. I ask you, what have you ever done?"

Silence swept over the ridge as Hurler contemplated his next move. If he could he would have executed Cody right on the spot with his glare alone. Instead he chose another tack.

"You all see him. He is pointing a blaster at a Commissar officer appointed by the Theater Commander, Moff Seco. A Moff has given me the power to carry out field punishment on anyone who hasn't shown the proper Imperial attitude towards battle. Marshall Commander CC-5052, you heard him threaten me?" Hurler asked Bly.

"My mind was contemplating another matter at the time. I must have missed it." Bly answered.

"Lieutenant VX-5620, are you deaf as well?" Hurler sneered at Cody's aide.

"Yes, Major." Birgann answered with crisp, military precision.

Cody smiled at the replies of his _vode_ but only for a fraction of a second. He never took his eyes or his weapon off of the mongrel. His finger itched to push the blasting stub. The only sound was the lapping of waves in the harbor below and the caws of nearby sea birds.

In the end, though, his sense of duty won out. He dropped his pistol to his side. No matter how much he'd like to he didn't have orders to dispose of the garbage in front of him. If he did what he wanted without those orders he was sure the punishment from fleet command wouldn't be just for him but would also include his _vode_ who had witnessed the act. And he was tired of getting men killed.

"We'll just see what Moff Seco thinks about this." Hurler's hand stuffed his sidearm completely back into its holster. Without bothering to salute the Major spun around and stormed away towards his personal Arrow-23 landspeeder. The last Cody saw of the surly Commissar was as the political officer sped through the Imperial lines back to the south, nearly running over several patrolling clonetroopers in the roadway.

Cody didn't much care about what the illustrious Moff Seco thought anymore. He had been serving underneath mongrel officers for going on thirteen standard years now. The last officer who had cared about the well-being of the clones had been General Kenobi and Cody had tried to blast him in the back. The Force was probably paying him back for his actions on Utapau but the Force only knew that his _vode_ didn't deserve an officer like Major Hurler in their ranks.

Cody didn't hear anything further from the political officer for the rest of the evening. He figured Hurler must have backed down from his threats to report him. After taking dinner with his staff Cody found himself spending the rest of the evening next to the hyperwave radio station attached to his mobile command post. Bly and Birgann joined him with cups of caf to help them through the cold night.

Their sector of the war was rather quiet tonight. After the unfortunate event with the injured lieutenant this morning the rest of the Commissars were lying low. None of them seemed to want to stir up any trouble with the Kiwis or the clones. Cody was fine with that. He was fine with anything that kept his _vode_ safe.

The hyperwave came to life every few minutes, mainly with transmissions from the two battles underway outside of the target cities. Salvo and Gett's legions were fighting there and Cody listened for any familiar voices. Scuttlebutt was the fighting was intense, especially in China where advances were being measured in only a kilometer or two a day. The fighting on the lesser continental mass was more fluid as the Army battled the American abos in a wide desert region.

"Quiet night. I think I'll turn in . . ." Cody started to say but he was interrupted by an alert chime from the comm/scan station. Any fatigue Cody had felt evaporated in an instant. He had been bred and trained to be fully alert at the first sign of trouble, a habit that even the years he'd spent sitting on his _shebs_ couldn't beat out of him.

"SitRep!" Birgann yelled at the clones manning the station. Another chime rang out from the subspace radar station.

"Multiple inbound bogeys. Attack characteristics of ballistic and cruise missiles." The clone monitoring the Target Acquisition and Tracking monitors yelled.

Cody raced over the TAT station and leaned over the trooper manning the controls. "How many?"

"Sir, radar is tracking two hundred inbound from the north west. . ." Birgann yelled from another station.

"Australia!" Bly stated. "I thought fleet's been blasting them to keep them off your back. Request FleetOps to detach bombers to suppress those launch sites."

". . .We're also detecting inbound missiles coming in from eastern vectors. ETA in four minutes." Birgann reported.

"The east? There's nothing out there." Bly said.

"Aquatic submarines." Cody said incredulously. "They must have gotten a few petrol-burning boats out there. Without a nuclear or fusion reactor we wouldn't have detected them."

"They must have popped to the surface, blasted off their missiles, and then hauled jets from the neighborhood as fast as they could." Birgann said. "We're not picking up any surface contacts out that way."

"Scramble _Flensor_ Squadron. They're on patrol to the north and they're equipped with sonar mapping buoys on their _Torrents._ See if they get lucky and catch one of the _chakaar_ before they completely bug out." Cody shouted orders to the troopers in the headquarters bunker. "Get the SigInt jammers up and running and get every AA blaster we've got putting up a curtain of plasma to greet those incoming missiles."

A nearby holoimager showed troopers running to their battle stations along the ridge above Auckland. Several batteries of AT-AAs waddled into position to train their blasters towards the mouth of the bay.

"We've analyzed their attack. It consists of sixty percent Tomahawk IIs with the remainder made up of AGM-180 JASSM, Trident IVs, and Storm Shadow IIIs. They will impact targets starting just north of Auckland all the way to the south in Wellington." Birgann reported.

"They're going to hit their own beings." Cody was shocked. "Why?"

"We've been jamming them since we first detected them. We could have knocked a few of their guidance systems off course." Bly suggested. His aide de camp was standing next to him now. "Besides, I doubt a lot of Intel is getting out of this place. The abos might not know exactly where we are on the island. They're probably just blasting away like they would with a flachette launcher and hope for the best."

"Could be." Cody mused over what Bly had said. "Have the gunners prepare to engage all incoming targets. Even the ones that will come down inside the New Zealander's lines." He ordered the men in the room. The troopers sprang into action as his orders went out to dozens of units across the North Island.

"Commander, _Jacuna_ and _Ibbot_ Squadrons are engaging the attack over the Tasman Sea. They are reporting that a lot of the missiles are getting past them." A trooper at the comm/scan station reported.

Cody wasn't surprised. Those two squadrons only consisted of twenty _Torrents_ put together. Trying to hit supersonic targets moving in the dark couldn't be an easy task. He looked down at another display. It was doubtful he'd have another squadron in the air before the attack came in from the east. Perhaps _Clawbird_ Squadron might make it off their launchers in time but Cody thought it was a slim chance. It was up to the jammers and the AA gunners now.

"ETA two minutes!" someone yelled.

"Fleet Command is on the comm. They are recalling all bomber wings from suppressing the launch sites in Australia. Their explanation is FlightOp assets are needed around the Target Cities. The Theater Commander is also ordering us to stand down any unit targeting missiles that are predicted to impact inside Auckland or Wellington. We are to engage only threats to Imperial assets." Birgann said. A few murmurs of surprise rose from the troopers at their stations. It seemed like a back-handed thing to do, to let the Kiwis get pummeled while the cease-blast was in effect.

Cody had already fought Major Hurler over the subject of blasting on the New Zealand positions without provocation. He wasn't going to let their allies accidentally do it for them. Besides, he hated the thought of giving Hurler the satisfaction of watching the Kiwis go up in smoke. "Belay that order. All batteries are to engage any target they have in their sites. Understood?"

Cody looked at the troopers facing him inside the command post. He was deliberately going against the chain-of-command, something that had been bred out of them on Kamino. He had done the unthinkable. He had disobeyed. And they would not disobey the Marshall. He was _vod_ to them, not some _hut'uun_ mongrel who fought the war from the safety of a Star Destroyer. His orders went out to all of his commands.

"Let's watch the attack from outside, _Cod'ika."_ Bly put his hand on Cody's shoulder and turned him towards the entrance.

Cody nodded. Fresh air would do him good. He took a deep breath. It felt so alien to disobey an order that it left him feeling cold and empty on the inside.

"You heard the Marshall Commander, engage targets at will." Birgann commanded the troopers they were leaving behind.

Cody and Bly each grabbed a pair of Neuro-Saav TD2.3 electrobinoculars from a stand near the entrance and went outside. They broke a trail through a small berm of snow.

Cody climbed the ridge overlooking Auckland and used the electrobinoculars to peer out over the Tasman Sea to the west. The devices could have allowed him to see all the way to the eastern shores of Australia if it hadn't been for the curvature of the Earth.

With the device pressed to his bucket's lenses he watched as icons appeared that indicated the V-19 _Torrents_ of _Ibbot_ Squadron engaging targets a hundred and thirty kilometers away. Explosions lit up the distant sky over the Tasman Sea like an approaching lightning storm. Dozens of small icons in the electrobinocular's display showed missiles that were weaving their way through the fighter screen. Behind him to the east he could hear what sounded like thunder. But Cody had been on a hundred battlefields in his life. At two years of age the Kaminoans had started him training with live ordnance. He knew what he was hearing.

"AT-AAs are opening up." Bly said.

Cody turned around and looked to the southeast. A glow on the horizon told him the city of Tauranga was taking a pounding. He sighed; the Kiwis were taking it on the chin tonight despite his efforts.

Across the island streams of anti-airspeeder plasma blasts climbed into the night sky. They mixed with anti-airspeeder slugs from Auckland's defenses. Here and there missiles exploded like an Empire Day's firework display. AA turbolasers erupted from positions to the west as enemy missiles crossed the coastline.

"It looks like we and Morrison's boys are intercepting a good portion of the enemy's attack." Cody stated. "More of them look like they've lost their guidance control." As if to emphasize his point a Tomahawk rocketed past overhead to impact in the distant Hunua Ranges, a largely unpopulated hilly area to the east of Cody's headquarters. "I hope casualties are light."

"Ours or the Kiwis?" Bly asked.

"Both. Our _vode_ especially, but I've got nothing against these abos. Just another in a long line of beings the Empire has told me to blast at. These Emperors have only given me orders, not once have they given me a reason why we should be following them."

Bly was silent. Cody didn't lower his electrobinoculars from the horizon but Cody could tell his vod was studying him.

Suddenly AT-AA walkers at the mouth of the harbor opened up on an unseen target. Cody strained to catch sight of the projectile and his eyes caught a momentary flash from the weapon's engine. For a second he thought the onrushing cruise missile was aimed at his headquarters. With Bly and him out in the open like this his men would need bio-scanners to find any pieces of Bly and him if the missile impacted the bunker.

The targeting computer inside his HUD identified it as a British-made Storm Shadow III cruise missile just as the weapon veered away from him. Instead the enemy projectile screamed as it raced across the harbor heading directly toward the New Zealander's positions. If it impacted in the middle of General Morrison's position the cost in Kiwi trooper lives would be horrendous. Cody didn't like the thought of backstabbing abos doing his job for him. It seemed like something a mongrel would approve of.

His eyelids flickered over the icons in his helmet as they quickly connected him with the officer in charge of the Bp.5 anti-airspeeder turrets entrenched around his headquarters. "Lieutenant, bring down that missile."

"Roger, roger sir." The distant officer responded instantly across the bucket's comm. A second later green turbolaser blasts ripped overhead. Their blasts of superheated plasma tracked the missile the length of the waterway. Just half a kilometer from impacting the waterfront of Auckland a lucky bolt hit the projectile's nose. Instead of causing the weapon to crash the clone's blasting initiated a powerful detonation. The resulting blast lit up the harbor like a supernova. Even kilometers away Bly and Cody felt the concussive wave of air pressure as it swept over them a moment later.

"Fierfek. That was close. You could hardly squeeze a bantha between the Kiwi positions and where that thing went off. Morrison sure owes you one." Bly said.

"After the war is over he can buy me a round of elba." Cody agreed.

"You ought to try that Steinlager they've got around here. It's kriffing good. Better than that poodoo swill we captured when I was on the lesser continental mass. That stuff was neither less filling nor tasted great." Bly laughed at his own joke.

Cody didn't get it. Though to be fair he never served around Target East like Bly had so he had never had the chance to sample the local brews. Like most clones he never drank much. Cody also knew Bly didn't haul him out here in the middle of an attack to talk about beer, either.

"Listen, it was my choice to ignore that order." Cody said.

"I know and I agree. Hurler and Seco aren't troopers. They don't know what it is like for us. You think they give a damn whether or not the abos around here rise up and try to murder us in our sleep? From what I've heard Seco wants to Base Delta Zero the whole place and be done with it." Bly said.

The harbor below had grown quiet. The attack was over. Out over the Tasman Sea the scattered squadrons of _Torrents_ were reforming into their patrol patterns. Cody wondered if any of those abo submarines had escaped.

"No beings deserve that. These Kiwis are alright, in fact, they're more than alright. They talk and look just like us. The only thing they've got against the Empire is that _Tarkin's Fist_ and Yos's Martian Empire landed in their backyard and started blasting them. From what I've understood from talking to some of them they want nothing more than to be left alone in peace." Cody realized that that was his greatest desire as well. He was sick of war. He was tired of killing beings he didn't hate.

Birgann's voice cut across his helmet's comlink, "Commander, we need you back in the bunker. You're going to want to see this."

"Is the attack over?" Cody asked, at the same time wondering what new problem had chosen to inflict itself upon the veterans of the Clone Wars.

"Scanners are showing that all incoming projectiles have been either blasted down or have impacted. Casualty reports are coming in but it looks like those are going to be light on both sides. The AA gunners did an astral job, sir." Birgann reported.

"Good. We're on our way." Cody closed the comm channel.

Bly didn't say anything as they both turned and walked back towards the command bunker. Cody wondered if there was anything else that needed to be said. Clones had taken orders from mongrels for a long time now. Mongrels who had no honor and cared very little for the clone's sense of duty and respect. Mongrels who weren't even worthy of scraping the mud off of Cody's boots. There wasn't a clone Cody was aware of who wasn't dead tired of it. They all wanted out but until this kriffing war was over the only way home was in a body bag.

The two Marshals gathered a bunch of concerned looks from the headquarters staff when they reentered the bunker. Some of them tried to monitor their stations but it was evident that all eyes in the bunker were on Birgann. Something was amiss and Cody was without a clue as to what was unnerving his staff.

"Sir, this was just issued in an AAC." Birgann stepped forward and held out a flimsiplast containing a new Alert All Command order, "It's been issued by the Theater Commander."

Cody took the orders and read them.

_Alert All Commands-_

_All Imperial personnel under the command of the Maw Defense Fleet are hereby ordered to arrest CC-2224 for treasonous acts against the 1__st__ Martian Empire. CC-2224 has countermanded orders from the office of the Theater Commander aimed at persecuting this war to its logical conclusion. CC-2224 has knowingly given aide to the enemy in a deliberate manner._

_Any resistance to your efforts can be met with the lawful termination of CC-2224._

_Admiral Neptu_

_Commander- Ploo Sector Fleet_

Cody crumpled up the flimsiplast in disgust and threw it against the nearby wall. "Why wasn't this issued over our trooper's comlinks like Order 66 was?"

"They were. FleetOps jammed their own signal from reaching you." Bly said. Cody spun around to face his old friend. "I didn't say anything on my way back because I was plotting a vector for getting you out of the Empire's clutches."

"And you Birgann? Didn't you hear the Theater Commander's orders? Are you going to arrest me?" Cody asked.

"Sir, I'm still experiencing this pesky intermittent hearing problem. I think all of these men are." Birgann waved a hand around the room. At their duty stations dozens of clones silently acknowledged the lieutenant's assessment.

Cody felt a sense of pride in his men, his _vode._ Thirteen years ago they had followed similar orders and helped massacre the Jedi. None of them had walked away from that without deep personal scars. None of them would willingly inflict new scars by turning on their _vod._

A nearby holoimager came to life. The figure on it was Major Hurler. Two troopers jumped up from their stations to block the Commissar's view of Cody. "VX-5620, have you placed CC-2224 under arrest." The little blue image barked at the fully armored clonetrooper.

"Not yet, sir. It should be momentarily." Birgann lied. After so many years serving under him Cody could tell when his subordinate was deliberately keeping something from a superior and this time Cody appreciated it.

"Fierfek. Can't you clones do anything right?" Hurler snarled.

"Commander Cody is overseeing our defense from the latest enemy attack. Troopers in the field should bring him in anytime now." Bly told the distant officer.

"Nobody better blast him until I get there. I am on route and should be at your location in ten minutes. Hurler out." The insipid little man cut the connection before Birgann or Bly could respond.

Bly walked forward and placed his hand on Cody's shoulder. _"Cod'ika_ it is time for a _Ba'slan Shev'la_ for you."

Cody nodded. Like most phrases handed down to the clones from their trainers on Kamino, the _Cuy'val__Dar,_ this one had a Mandolorian origin. In Galactic Basic Standard it roughly translated into a strategic disappearance. It had been rumored to be the cause of so many desertions at the end of the Clone Wars, especially amongst the commandos and senior leadership, when clones had become jaded with the newly formed Empire. Cody had heard rumors that those who had disappeared had been seen on Mandolore but had never considered the choice of leaving so many of his _vode_ behind. Now it seemed as if that choice was being made for him.

"You must go, Commander. I can delay Hurler once he gets here, buy you some time to make your escape." Birgann offered.

Cody reached out and offered his hand. Birgann clasped Cody's forearm in the Mandolorian fashion. "Thank you, _Birg'ika._ You have always been a good friend."

"Come on, we don't have much time." Bly urged.

"Let's go." Cody started heading for the entrance.

"_Ke'sush_!" Birgann yelled. Every man in the bunker snapped to attention. Their fists pounded to their chests in the ancient salute of Mandolore.

Cody could feel pride threatening to choke him as he swelled at the show of respect from the troopers he had led for so long. "_Re'turcye mhi_." was all he could manage to say. Farewell, I hope we meet again. Cody went back out into the night.

Bly broke into a sprint for the headquarters' motor pool. Cody was fast on his brother's heels. Their footfalls crunched through the snow.

Cody understood without asking why Bly was leading him away from the landing pads situated near the rear of the headquarters. The pads would have at least one freighter unloading supplies, a freighter no doubt manned by a civilian spacer crew of some sort. Bly wouldn't want to risk running into any blaster-happy _bishwag_ trying to turn bounty hunter by taking a pot blast at Cody. It was also the logical place FleetOps would land troopers assigned to bringing him in.

Within seconds they reached the motor pool, where a pair of mechanics were working on a Juggernaut. The troopers saluted as Bly and Cody ran by and then returned to their duties. A trio of AT-RTs crouched in their parked position: low to the ground so a rider could easily mount them. Bly launched himself into the air and came down solidly on the center vehicle's saddle. Cody climbed onto the left one and quickly went through the start-up procedure of the small one-man walker.

His walker stood up to its full height of 3.2, meters shaking off a dusting of snow as it did so. Bly was ready and waved for Cody to follow. The other Marshall Commander lurched forward in the open cockpit and stomped hard on his drive pedals. Bly's walker took off at a sprint and Cody chased after him. Their AT-RTs weaved through dozens of parked landspeeders and walkers as they made their way towards the motor pool's exit. They both leaped over the cross bar that blocked the entrance and raced away to the south.

Within seconds they were past the last of the headquarters' sentries and sprinting across the white New Zealand countryside. Their footpads crunched heavily through drifts of snow. Cody was grateful for his body glove and even the stormtrooper armor he wore, for he hardly noticed the freezing wind that whipped by. He was even thankful for the breeze that was covering the tracks their mounts left in their wake. Above them thousands of distant stars sparkled in Earth's atmosphere.

They crested a small hill about a kilometer from the motor pool. Bly brought his AT-RT to a halt. Cody reigned in his walker beside his _vod's._ Below them in a small valley sat an electrified death-fence enclosure that encompassed several acres of what had been farmland, and a small copse of stripped-bare trees. A single guard tower stood at each of the enclosure's four corners. A red wall of plasma beams connected each tower, detaining the prison's inhabitants within its walls. Clonetroopers patrolled the perimeter of the camp while some of their comrades manned large E-Webs from the tops of the towers, keeping the weapons trained on the near-humans inside the camp.

According to the latest report the camp was housing just over fifty thousand earthlings, most of whom were now huddled inside make-shift shelters or bunched around metal barrels that held small fires. All of them appeared to be wearing multiple layers of coats and jackets or had several blankets wrapped around themselves to fight the cold. Some of them called out to clonetroopers on the other side of the death fence, begging for scraps of food for their younglings. Cody had never seen a more miserable lot of beings in his entire career in the Empire's service.

"These beings should have been moved to the Luna Base processing center immediately." Cody said in frustration. "Not left out here to freeze for no good reason. Even those laser-brained Commissars must realize the Empire can't get any work out of near-human popsicles."

"We haven't got the shuttles to support both the Surge and Operation _Piper._ We'd have done better to leave well enough alone with the Kiwis." Bly explained. "Now the Commissar's got them all stirred up and for what? This?"

"That's what I was trying to do. We've had a nice cease-blast all set up until that stang Hurler carbon flushed the whole island. Scum." Cody spit out.

"You won't hear any disagreement from me." Bly said. "If you're ready to _Ba'slan Shev'la _they're your best chance. Running around alone round this place will probably get your _shebs _blasted off."

"It'll be strange to start over. Everything I know is with the _vode._"

"It will be different here. I saw what a strange bunch these Terrans could be outside that Los Angeles place. Keep your guard up." Bly warned. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Cody answered.

They kicked the walkers into gear and trotted down the slope towards the camp's gate. A pair of AT-TEs stood at the ready in front of the entrance. The camp had no bunker or anything that protected its guard force. Instead a hatch opened on one of the AT-TEs and a sergeant jumped out of the walker, followed by a pair of his troopers. Evidently the large walkers were all the protection the guards had against the elements besides their armor. At least it was more than the prisoners had inside the field prison. The guards saluted when they saw who was approaching.

"Sergeant, are you in charge of this detail?" Bly asked as he brought his AT-RT to a halt. Both of the Marshall Commanders dismounted and stood before the trio of guards. Cody noticed several more troopers watching them from their walker's viewports.

"Yes, sirs." The NCO answered.

"Astral. Recall your patrols and bring your men in from the towers on the double. Do not send out any relief." Bly ordered.

The Sergeant cocked his head to the side as he considered the strange order. Then answered, "Roger, roger, Commander." The guard commander sent out the order across his unit's comlinks. Within moments troopers came running in from their positions. They joined neat ranks behind their NCO between the two AT-TE.

On the other side of the death fence several abos milled about. Cody assumed some of them were drawn by the sudden strange behavior of their guards, others he guessed were just trying to do something physical to keep warm. After a few minutes nearly a hundred of them were watching the formation from the other side of the fence. Cody doubted any of them were close enough to hear what the clones were saying but kept his voice low anyways.

"I assume you men heard the AAC that just went out." Cody told the gathered clones.

"Um, yes, sir. Has Commander Bly come here to place you in our custody?" The Sergeant asked evidently trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

"No, I have come here to report his escape." Bly stated.

"His escape? But he's right . . ." The Sergeant started.

"That's right, his escape. And while in the midst of his flight the fugitive assaulted you, Sergeant, and freed these prisoners from their captivity as well." Bly waved his hand at the Kiwis behind the death fence.

"Ah, I see. You say he assaulted me?"

"That's right, and freed these beings." Bly repeated.

The Sergeant took off his bucket and turned towards Cody. "Commander, when I heard the AAC I thought it had to be a mistake. My _vode _and myself," he jerked his head back at the squads behind him, "Well, we were with the 501st at Umbara. Your boys in the 212th got us out of a tight pinch during that battle. Most of us wouldn't be standing here today if it wasn't for you. It's my honor to do this." The NCO took his helmet with both hands and brought it up with enough force to smash his own nose. Blood dribbled off the crisp, white helmet and fell into the snow at the NCO's feet. "You pack a hell of a wallop, sir."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Cody reached forward and shook the man's hand in the Mandolorian fashion. Blood streamed from the NCO's wound but he didn't seem to take any notice.

Bly walked forward to a small control station next to the gate. "_Cod'ika_, are you ready?"

Cody gave a long thought to what he was about to do. He really had no choice. His brothers had given him a chance and he'd be _di'kutla_ to pass it up. They weren't exiling him so much as saving him from the danger of an unjust execution. He would miss them terribly, all of them, every single trooper he had ever served with. He took off his helmet and handed the Sergeant his sidearm.

"As I'll ever be. You just keep those kriffing mongrels off my trail."

"You got it." Bly's fingers flashed over the keys of the control station. After a few seconds aurebesh lettering came up on the station's monitor: _Emergency Override_. Bly pushed the icon.

The red death fence emitted a low, receding thrum as it powered down. The beams disappeared one after another until there was nothing surrounding the camp. Mummers of confusion came from the abos. They stood up and spun around, expecting this to be some kind of Imperial trick.

"It's a trap." one of them shouted.

"It's no trap, you _shabla_ nerf-herder!" Bly yelled at the Kiwis. "Go! Run! Before I change my mind!"

The beings in the enclosure still looked unsure. Some near the edges of the camp started to back away. Near the periphery of the camp some of the abos took off for a distant, tree covered hill at a sprint. Most of them still stood around in shock, not knowing what to do.

Bly turned and motioned at the commander of one of the AT-TEs. The trooper in the driver seat nodded his acknowledgment of Bly's command as he spoke across his comlink to his gunner. A second later the walker's topside mass driver cannon spun around and aimed itself over the heads of the earthlings. Its blast caused the abos to jump. The echo of the weapon bounced across the snow-strewn valley.

The shot got its point across. By the thousands the freed captives ran in every direction except towards the clones at the gate. None of the troopers made any effort to detain any of them. They just watched as the abos disappeared into the night.

"Now go." Bly said.

"This is the end of this." Cody said, thinking of his entire life as a trooper. He had no memories of anything else.

"I know."

Cody ran into the compound, into the crush of panicked abos. His exposed ears stung from the freezing night air. As he ran he unclasped the magnetic seals that held his torso armor in place and let it fall in his wake. He weaved around slower abos who were still making their way out of the camps. Older beings and beings with younglings straggled behind in the mass flight.

He undid his kama and pauldrons as he made it to the edge of the camp, dropping them behind like the rest of his armor. He stopped for a moment to consider which direction to go and to unclasp his thigh and pelvic armor plates. He realized that any direction was as good as any other. Stripped down to only his heat conserving body glove and his white stormtrooper boots he raced across the snowy field toward the hill.

Once he was amongst the trees he easily caught up to the majority of the fleeing abos. He had trained and exercised every day for his entire life and so was barely winded by his sprint through the forest. Though his physical body was pushing fifty no one could claim he was out of shape.

The trees felt claustrophobic as he plunged through their evergreen branches. Screams and shouts of frightened beings ricocheted through the woods. But he kept going. He knew a pursuit would eventually be mounted by the Commissars and decided his best bet would be to put as much distance as he could between the escaped prisoners and himself.

He ran and ran, setting a pace designed to conserve energy while eating away the kilometers. An hour after he had started out he could no longer hear anyone else. He was alone.

He came across a wide, undisturbed field of deep, moon-lit snow. The mando'a expression _cin vhetin _came to mind. The literal translation into basic was a white field of new-fallen snow just like the one that lay before him. But what it really meant to a Mandolorian like himself was a clean slate, a means of starting over in one's life. That is what Cody was doing. For better or worse he was retired. His old life was behind him and ahead of him lay his _cin vhetin_.

He ran out to meet it.


	60. Mallory 5

**5 miles south of Interstate 15, Shadow Valley, Mojave National Preserve, Upper California, NAU**

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Corporal Justin Mallory was embracing the suck.

He sat shivering in the mud at the bottom of the spiderhole he shared with another Ranger. The desert-colored netting that concealed their position did little to nothing to stop the rain from entering their hiding spot. He clutched his water-proof poncho tighter around himself, cursing the cold, oily rainwater that trickled down the back of his neck and carved tiny lines through the camouflage pattern painted across his face.

Their hole was cramped, barely large enough to contain the two of them comfortably even without their gear. Mallory sat on an ammo crate in a futile effort to keep out of the mud that oozed and squished everywhere across the floor of their position. His leaned back against half of a padded chair they had found and thrown into the hole. He was eating a cold cheese tortellini MRE, which he had laid out on top of a Recon Scout throwbot. The small recon robot had been rigged with C4 in case their position was over run. Mallory thought nothing of the high-explosives that rested underneath his "Meal Rejected by Ethiopians". Instead he was focused on the weather.

"Isn't it almost the end of June? You're from around here, Indy. Why the fuck is it so damn cold? This is the goddamn Mojave, isn't it?" Mallory asked the field medic who was peering into the lens of the digital trench periscope.

Specialist Jones, or 'Indy' to his friends, didn't bother to pull his face away from the electronic device as he spoke. He ripped open a Folger's coffee packet and popped its contents into his mouth and started chewing in an effort to stay awake. The long retreat across the desert hadn't left many opportunities for rest. "Dude, I've got no clue why the weather's this shitty out here. I'm from the suburbs of San Diego. I don't know shit about the desert. Could be a lot worse. Could be ET heavy phasers raining down on us like it did to those poor guys over in Palm Springs."

Mallory looked at the mud wall across from him and remembered that disaster from a couple of weeks before. Instead of the sound of rain, his ears filled with the noise and terror that came with the Army fleeing its entrenchments around Los Angeles as the enemy surged from its breakout near what had once been Riverside. The Army had been almost broken in two as a half dozen of those spaceships had opened up on the American fortifications from orbit with their heavy weapons, effortlessly blasting a corridor for their own alien army to pour through and behind the American lines. Hundreds of those horrifying camel-walkers had led the charge that bisected the American defenses. And then they really suckered us, Mallory thought.

The alien attack had been aimed directly down the Interstate 10 corridor, seemingly attempting to cross the Colorado River and invade Arizona. Communications had been haphazard at best and before anybody had realized it some hothead General had placed two newly arrived Mechanized Infantry Divisions in a blocking formation across the Interstate at Palm Springs. Mallory had been part of the retreat twenty miles to the north in Yucca Valley when it had happened, but he had seen it as clearly as if he had been across the street. Ten of those fearsome, diamond-shaped Star Destroyers had unleashed such an intensely focused bombardment on Palm Springs that the vibrations from the impacts had shaken him to his knees.

For twenty minutes they pounded what had once been a playground for Upper California's elite into dust. What was left was nothing more than a ten mile wide crater and the ashen and burnt remains of two Divisions. When it was all over they discovered that the ETs had turned north and were driving on Barstow. Palm Springs had been nothing more than a trap. And we fell for it, he thought.

"If I had to guess, it was the fire." Jones said, tearing Mallory from his memories.

"What fire?"

"Well maybe not just one, though I'll never forget the one that took out San Diego, but the millions of them that the ETs lit off from orbit. All those cities up in smoke, along with all of those factories and fuel refineries. That had to put up a lot of particulates. I'm no expert and it's been nearly a month since I've seen a newspaper and the flying spaghetti monster knows how long it's been since I could check the internet but I'd bet a hundred Ameros that we've dropped at least an average five degrees or so since the fucking Imperials showed up in our neighborhood." Jones figured.

Mallory reckoned the other Ranger was onto something. 'Indy' Jones had graduated college and had been an active EMT in the suburbs of San Diego when the aliens first arrived. He was now the platoon's medic. Unlike a lot of other soldiers Mallory had come across, Jones had a realistic and often fatalistic way of looking at things.

"I took meteorology before Michigan State shut down. My professor said something like if we dropped that much it could kick off another Ice Age." Mallory offered.

"I'm sure that would make the fucking Imperials cry a river. In case you haven't noticed they're not exactly playing nice with old Mother Earth, Corp."

"Been there, learned that. I discovered just how hard to play with the fucking ETs in LA." Mallory always made sure to mention that along with Sergeant Cortez he had managed to survive the Battle for LA, which was something of a rarity in the North American Army these days. "First thing you do is put two rounds in their neck, then you curb stomp them something fierce. After that you drop a phosphorous grenade down that armor of theirs and bug the fuck out of there before a bokoo of his ET buddies come to burn your ass."

Jones just grunted. Then the medic suddenly tensed and shifted his weight from on knee to the next. Mallory moved the safety on his M6A3 to the single-shot position. He leaned forward and whispered into Jones's ear. "What's up?"

Jones pulled back from the observation piece and held up a hand, indicating for Mallory to shut his mouth. He made another hand motion to indicate that some kind of robot was moving about in front of their position but he didn't know what it was.

Mallory switched his weight onto his knees and took out his flexible snake cam. He maneuvered the camera lens over the top of the foxhole and activated the waterproof, hand-held plasma monitor strapped to his forearm.

Their spider hole was located on the forward slope of one of the foothills of the Providence Mountains amongst thousands of large boulders and blooming cacti. Below them on the floor of the valley lay the shattered remains of Interstate 15, the massive highway that had once linked Los Angeles with Las Vegas to the northwest. Now the roadway was a jumble of shattered concrete and melted asphalt. The entire valley resembled the surface of the Moon, pockmarked with the cratered results of cluster bombs and scorched by wildfires set by both sides. Across it marched the long white and gray columns of the Imperial Army.

The ETs paid the road little attention as their massive vehicles either floated or walked towards the east. Mallory panned his camera back and forth. Thick clouds of smoke still rose from the small town of Halloran Springs to the west and flashes from the ETs' phasers could just barely be made out among the ruins. Mallory smiled. Someone in there was still putting up a fight even though the Imperials had encircled and cut off the town the day before. Imperial convoys bypassed the town to the north and south.

Occasionally it was possible to see howitzer shells passing overhead, lighting up the cloud cover briefly before screaming on to their destinations. Explosions rocked the alien lines around the small town. Batteries of enemy artillery responded in kind, launching their blue-hued energy shells back over the mountains towards their distant tormentors. Like the grunts in a hundred previous wars, Mallory preferred it when the artillery picked on each other and left the poor bastards in the infantry alone.

He wished there was something he could do to help those who were trapped but, bobbing his head up and down would have brought a swift and probably fatal response from one of those flying motorcycles that rocketed back and forth across the wide desert pass. If only the Mojave was acting like it should have it would be much easier to mask his heat signature from the thousands of enemy troops moving across the valley below.

The outlines of the Kingston Range on the north side of the valley could barely be made out through the low cloud ceiling and thick banks of smoke that wafted across the Shadow Valley. Mallory smirked at the valley's name and tried to remember that biblical verse about the valley of death that preachers used to recite at funerals. He could make out Clark Mountain to the east and knew the vanguard of the Imperial Army was somewhere on the other side, fighting around Primm just across the Nevada border. Through the rain he identified the burned out hulks of American armored vehicles that had tried to hold up the alien advance the day before. They were scattered across the landscape like the toys of an angry two-year old.

Mallory didn't focus the magnification on the camera. He didn't want to remember the frozen faces of the blackened and still smoking corpses that lay next to dozens of destroyed vehicles or hung limply from escape hatches where they had been caught as their Strykers or Abrams burned around them.

A movement down the slope in front of them caused him to freeze in place. Every muscle tensed, ready to spring into action. Without looking he felt Jones react in the same manner. He could sense Jones fingering the trigger of the matte-black Mossberg 590 shotgun he carried. Fifty yards ahead of them a large, black object emerged from behind a concealing boulder. Taller than a man, the flying robot sported several long appendages that dangled from its circular body.

"Jellyfish." Mallory whispered, using the nickname soldiers had dubbed the alien device that scouted the flanks of the enemy army. Mallory remembered a year ago when several of the things had been sent to Earth ahead of their space armada. He figured they must be used solely for reconnaissance as he couldn't recall anyone mentioning encountering them in a firefight since the aliens had landed.

The jellyfish floated a few feet over the ground and moved in Mallory's general direction. He wrapped his trigger finger around his weapon. He'd have to hit the robot just right and then he and Indy would have to hoof it as fast as they could back up the slope to their platoon's position higher up in the hills. His and Jones' odds of making it back before those flying biker ETs landed on their ass was almost non-existent.

The jellyfish robot stopped about twenty yards in front of their hole. Its arms reached out to examine a toppled husk of a Joshua Tree. Mallory slowly reached under his poncho and pulled free a frag grenade. He put the pin in his mouth, ready to hurl the explosive at the start of his attack. The robot was so close that Mallory could make out the sounds of Imperial comm traffic emitting from its receivers. The robot seemed to respond in some form of electronic gibberish.

The top of its head spun around and a sort of camera lens on its body faced directly towards the hidden flexcam. Mallory hadn't dared move the device out of fear that the movement would have caught the jellyfish's attention. He focused on controlling his breathing and being ready to strike if the jellyfish moved any closer to their spider hole.

With a sudden dipping twist the jellyfish swerved to their left and spun around back towards the valley. As Mallory watched it go he hoped that it was returning to its programmed patrol zone and not rushing back to inform its masters that the hills to the south of them were full of Americans.

He let out a long, slow breath. His muscles and shoulders relaxed as the robot disappeared among the debris of the valley floor. Beside him Jones relaxed as well.

"That was close. Stay on your scope. I'll signal Cortez the all-clear." Mallory said as he turned in the small confines of their spider hole. He was careful not to disturb the netting above them or the periscopes. Any movement above ground could draw the unwanted attention of the ETs. He picked up a small iPhone X from atop an empty ammo crate. A thin wire ran from the device up and out of the rear of the fox hole. The enemy jammed almost everything the American Army used for communications and when they weren't jamming you, their own more powerful communication gear usually washed out most nearby Earth-based technology. Most, that was, until some army commo puke got crafty with a laser pointer.

At the end of the wire rested their own laser that was perfectly sighted on a tiny receiver attached to a ping pong paddle two thousand yards behind them. Mallory's thumbs raced across the keys with a skill born of millions of childhood text messages.

OP MALLORY ALPHA CHARLIE, he hit the send key.

Twenty seconds later the screen on the phone lit up. COPY THAT-YOU ARE ALPHA CHARLIE-YOU TWO BROKEDICKS FIND US A TANGO BEFORE IT GETS BOOGIE DARK-CORTEZ

"Sarge is getting antsy." Mallory said as he put the phone back in its spot.

"Can't make the ETs do something stupid if they don't want to. You remember when we all carried those things?" Jones nodded towards the iPhone. "We all texted each other chicken shit all day."

"I threw mine away right after the ETs grabbed the Moon. Wasn't much more than a paperweight after that. Besides they don't let us keep them in basic training." Mallory admitted.

Thinking about being able to reach out and touch someone made Mallory remember something. He reached down under his poncho and tapped the cargo pouch on his left leg, reassured by the familiar crumple of the paper within.

He'd had the letter from his father for several days now. It was the first one he had ever received, which showed just how far the Earth had slipped backwards in the technology race. He wasn't sure how it had found him amongst the defensive retreat across southern Upper California but some POG in the Military Postal Service had tracked him down. Even though the letter was several weeks old according to the post date it was reassuring to know that his family was alive. He hadn't heard a word from them since he had been ordered into LA before the invasion.

He had lost hope after hearing about the tragedy of Camp Chicago. Six million refugees wiped out in a single murderous attack. A trench deeper than the Grand Canyon now stretched across Illinois from Iowa to Indiana. The propaganda troops wouldn't shut up about it. "Remember Camp Chicago" was plastered on hundreds of walls as they fell back across the desert.

His father had written him that the family had been moved out of the doomed camp a week before the attack and transferred to an agricultural camp outside of the ruins of Detroit. His father had been assigned to a salvage team that mined the Motor City for useable salvage and scrap materials. His mother and little sisters had been placed as farm hands while his seventeen year old brother had received his conscription notice and had been taken away by the army. His father wasn't sure but he thought his brother might be training somewhere in Canada.

Probably part of those bicycle divisions they've got moving west, Mallory thought. More and more freshly arrived soldiers had received their basic training while en route to the battlefield, whether on the back of a bicycle or in some rare cases horseback. Trucks and fuel were too valuable to waste on bringing soldiers forward, at least not while those soldiers had two perfectly good working legs.

Mallory hadn't mentioned the letter to Indy. Not many soldiers knew the fates of their families outside of the battle zone. Indy wasn't one of those. Mallory was pretty sure Jones knew exactly what had become of his family. The medic's family had been in the east county of San Diego when that southern metropolis had been gutted by the Imperials. Southern California had been a charnel house as bad as anywhere on the globe. That first day the aliens knocked the power out and gutted San Diego's center. And then the water had stopped coming through the pipes that kept nearly four million people alive in a natural desert. Recon troops who had come back from that area had reported great drifts of dehydrated corpses three deep, stretching along the highways leading east.

"Corp, you hear that?" Jones pulled his face away from the scope and cocked an ear towards the roof of their pit.

Mallory listened. A second later he heard the high-pitched whine of turbofan engines. "One of ours. It's not that lazy scream those 'H' fighters put out."

"Haven't seen one of ours in at least a fucking week. I think he's coming out of the north."

"Echoes make it kind of hard to tell." Mallory moved the camera lens back and forth, looking for the source of the noise. "The ETs in that column down range are sure as shit scattering." He watched as a long line of floating tanks and infantry transports fanned out across the valley floor. A second later, alien anti-aircraft weapons churned out long lines of colorful phasers as they swept for the unseen attack.

"There's our slicky boy." Jones said, swinging his periscope north of Halloran Springs where a shape was just emerging from a distant rain squall. "Sucker's going supersonic."

"She's an old hog." Mallory said as he watched the ancient A-10 Warthog hug the valley floor as it raced towards its target. The aircraft's 30mm gatling started flashing while it was still a mile away from the ET positions around the town. The ground-attack aircraft rose slightly into the air as it passed over the Imperials. A massive wall of napalm erupted in a section of the Imperial encirclement, momentarily lighting up the gloom-filled valley. Fifteen seconds later the crack and roar of the impact reached the two hidden Rangers.

"Shit! Fucker is coming this way!" Jones swore.

They both watched as the attack aircraft dodged and weaved its way across the valley. The booming thump-thump of flak phasers chased after it. Mallory could make out a pair of those tracking missiles the enemy used following in its wake. A second later it passed silently over their foxhole at a distance of thirty meters. The sonic boom that followed tore off their camouflage netting and tossed the two soldiers into each other like ragdolls. Mallory's ears throbbed in pain and for a moment he thought they had been perforated. He kicked away a foot-long piece of cactus that had been blown into their hole. "That asshole had blue eyes."

Alien anti-aircraft phasers tore into the hillside as they chased after the fast mover. Rocks and sand cascaded down on Mallory and Jones. From the south came the sound of a distant explosion, hinting at the fate of sneaky warthog. Mallory figured it had either been hit by one of those missiles or had eluded its pursuers because the Imperial barrage suddenly ceased.

Mallory and Jones wasted no time. They reached over the lip of their hole and grabbed the edge of the netting, carefully pulling it back into place. "You think anyone saw us?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Mallory said, straining to hear the tell-tale sound of approaching footsteps or the whine of an approaching floating tank. After a few tense moments the two began to relax again.

"Brave motherfucker." Jones said indicating the pilot of the A-10.

"Crazy, too. Air jockey was out of his mind coming right into the ETs like that. And where were his escorts or his wingman?" Mallory wondered. "Attack planes like that don't go out alone. Not if they want to make it back home again."

"Probably didn't make it this far. I hear our planes are faster than theirs but if you're coming right at them like that they'll swat you like a tennis ball. I hope he makes it back to wherever his base was." Jones said.

"Fuck him. Bastard almost got us killed. Right now I just hope we can make it back up this hill when our watch is up." Mallory said.

"Or Cortez doesn't bug out with the rest of the platoon." Jones replied as he went back to scanning the valley.

Mallory had no fear of that. He and their sergeant went back to LA together. If one person on this whole rotten battlefield had his back it was Sergeant Cortez. He owed the Baja Californian NCO his life several times over and vice versa. Cortez would die before he left Mallory and Mallory knew he would do the same.

"Column of Charlie-Whiskeys coming up south of the town." Jones observed.

"Get a count and I'll send a SALUTE report." Mallory replied, getting out the iPhone again and checking that the laser pointer communication device was still aligned with the receiver higher up the hill near Cortez's position.

It took a moment for Jones to count the intimidating machines coming out of the fog at the other end of the valley. Intelligence called the four-legged walkers Ay-Tee-Ay-Tees, but to soldiers on the ground they were camel-walkers or charlie-whiskeys. "I got twelve. That's how many of them work in a platoon, right?"

"That's what the intel pukes have figured." Mallory watched as a lose clump of mud broke away from one wall of their hole. "They're getting close."

"I don't think they're heading directly for us but I figure their route of march will pass us by half a klick to our north."

"They're moving up toward Vegas. Nothing the Army can do to slow them down before they get there, either." Mallory said in resignation. He punched in the spotting report and sent it up the hill. "Probably going to encircle Sin City like they did to all those guys we left behind in Barstow."

"Yeah, but then what? Vegas ain't exactly a strategic city and what's beyond it? Salt Lake City? Denver? That's like several more hundred miles for the ETs to stretch themselves out. I hope the brass can read a map."

Mallory thought about what the medic said. Nobody had really figured out the Imperial's end game plans when they had busted out of LA. They just seemed to keep going forward, smashing things, leaving more and more men behind to guard their flanks as they went ahead. They'd reach Las Vegas but would they have much left to go beyond it? Malory didn't think so.

Their spider hole rocked and rolled with the heavy vibrations for the next half hour as the heavy war machines passed by their position. Mallory was relieved that their passing didn't disturb their camouflage this time. "Hey, Indy, remember that movie Jurassic Park from when we were little kids?"

"Came out before either of us were born, man, but I saw it a couple of times. I liked the dinosaurs and in the second one a T-Rex smashed up my home town." Jones said.

"Feels like that. You know, the part where the T-Rex is approaching them and the water is vibrating? Those charlie-whiskeys reminded me of that." Mallory said, remembering watching the movie on Netflix with his dad when he was a kid.

"Old charlie-whiskey is a bit meaner than a T-Rex I think, and if he steps on our hole here that'd be all they wrote for Mallory and poor Indy here." Jones said. "Looks like they're moving to go around Clark Mountain to the south. That unit will be over around the town of Primm by the end of the day."

"They'd have to wash us out from between their toes." Mallory would have thought that was funny once upon a time, but he had seen it happen too many times for it to be anything more than a nightmare that would haunt him the rest of his days.

"Hey Corp, take a look at this. Looks like a winner winner chicken dinner."

Mallory pressed his face to Jones's periscope and peered west. It took him a few seconds to pick out the target Jones had indicated. A large, ten-wheeled vehicle was herding a column of eight floating truck-like vehicles past Halloran Springs. They were being extra careful to stay well out of range from anything the few survivors in the town could throw at them. Unfortunately for them that took them far to the southern edge of the valley, away from heavier Imperial units traveling in the center valley along the ruined interstate and right into the sites of the Rangers.

The big wheeled vehicle was as tall as a two story building and as long as two buses put together. Mallory had seen them before when the Imperials broke out of the city. The things could move like they were driving in NASCAR. They were tough but not as nearly as invincible as the camel-walkers. They were mainly seen behind the lines with secondary units such as the one moving towards them. And this one was all by its lonesome.

In front of the machine was mounted an extra two wheels that seemed to be weighed down by a large bucket that rested atop its axle. The extra wheels were shredded and torn. A result of the American mines the device had no doubt been fitted onto the vehicle to find. High atop the vehicle was a long, skinny tower with a spotter that scanned the countryside as the vehicle came forward. The way the ET swiveled back and forth told Mallory that they hadn't been spotted by the aliens yet.

"It's a juggernaut, bitch." Jones whispered, repeating the popular soldier's joke that had been repeated ever since the Imperial vehicle's name had been found out.

"Call it in. Tell Sarge we'll move as soon as he goes. We'll laz that tower on top for him."

"Copy that. Jones worked the iPhone X and then started gathering up their lose equipment into his ruck sack. After he sent the message he pulled the laser designator back into the hole. He placed it in his hand and raised it over the lip of the spider hole. He aimed the laser device at the spotter high atop the skinny tower. He used the iPhone's display to place the designator on the ET's torso as the vehicle came within a hundred yards of their hiding spot. A few more seconds and it would roll right past them by a couple of feet.

Mallory tensed up. He flowed into the now familiar feeling he got before combat. He became hyper-sensitive to a thousand details at once as his mind conditioned itself to an environment where enemy soldiers were actively trying to kill him. He tasted salt and carmex on his lips. He could smell the smoke and faint scents of cooked meat and burning fuel as it wafted across the battlefield. He could feel the impact of every raindrop through his poncho. He felt the reassurance of cold steel under his calloused trigger finger. The muddy ground vibrated under the soles of his boots from the heavy vehicle's approach.

When it was fifty yards away the vehicle turned slightly. Mallory realized too late that the war machine would pass directly over them. As the front slope of the vehicle passed over them Mallory feared the attached roller wheels would block their laser designator from its intended target. "C'mon, Sarge. What are you waiting for?" Mallory whispered.

Cortez must have heard them for at just that moment a scream came jetting down the hillside as a BGM-71E TOW rocketed towards the Juggernaut. The roller wheels passed along both sides of their spider-hole. The flopping of their shredded tires and the loud jostle and bounce of its weight was drowned out by the weapon's impacts.

Mallory swore he heard a faraway scream as the alien observer was ripped apart by the warhead's explosion. A bloody chunk of the alien flew off and impacted the ground behind the Juggernaut. Shrapnel and debris rained down on both sides of the vehicle and Mallory was relieved as the armored fortress rolled to a complete stop overhead.

The roar of racing motors could be heard above the slow whine on the monster's engines, punctuated by the steady crack of heavy .50 cal machine guns opening up from somewhere up slope.

"Here comes the cavalry!" Jones cheered as he heaved himself out of the hole. There was enough room for a grown man to easily stand at full height underneath the Juggernaut's undercarriage.

Mallory was just about to do the same when the familiar sound of a heavy phaser opened up from the Juggernaut's flank facing the oncoming attack. The sound of metal ripping itself apart quickly followed from that direction. "Dammit, this asshole is still in the fight."

Mallory got out of the hole and ran to a position just behind the third and fourth wheel and peered out. A thousand yards away he could make out Cortez and the rest of the oncoming Rangers seeking cover behind the large outcroppings of boulders that covered the gently sloping hill. The remains of a humvee burned furiously, sending a black plume of smoke into the sky.

Mallory choked on the fear in his throat. Their only hope for success was for the raid to be pulled off as fast as possible. If they wasted too much time the Imperial forces in the valley below would react to this pin prick to their flank. Mallory and Jones could forget about making it back to their lines in one piece, let alone alive.

From several meters above his head the Juggernaut's starboard cannon roared again. Mallory watched as a green phaser bolt impacted a dump truck-sized boulder that a Local Motors C2V just barely ducked behind.

Mallory looked up and studied the cannon jutting out of the side of the machine. He wondered if he could get a grenade up there, if that would be enough to knock the weapon out and give Cortez a chance to continue the attack. He didn't dare to step out between the tires in fear that the Juggernaut would start moving again. The side of the alien machine was starting to be peppered by incoming machine gun rounds from the American position and Mallory had no urge to step out into oncoming friendly fire.

"Watch out, Corp." Jones said from behind him.

Mallory turned and saw Jones had retrieved the throwbot from their former home. "Indy, what are you doing? Throw it under one of the tires on the other side and see if we can disable this beast."

"I've got a better idea, dude." Jones held the forty pound robotic device over his head and wedged himself behind the fourth wheel. Reaching around the juggernaut's axle, he placed himself between the armored hull and the tire, which was twice the medic's own height. He grabbed both ends of the tubular robot and slapped it to the Juggernaut's torsion suspension, which connected to its hull.

The throwbot's magnetic feet clamped to metallic armor coating the alien war machine. "Hand me your DetCord." Jones held out a hand.

Mallory quickly got a read on what the medic's intentions were. He dug out the blasting cord from his thigh pocket, along with a small hand-held detonator. He brushed past Jones and stuck one end into the C4 attached to the throwbot and connected the other end to the detonator. Jones plugged in the wire from the iPhone X to use it as a guidance system for the reconnaissance robot. Within seconds the little robot was climbing up the starboard hull towards the cannon that was holding up the Rangers' assault.

Mallory leaned over to watch the throwbot's rolling, upward progress on the cell phone's display. Jones steered it straight up and past the cannon, bringing it to a rest at the top of the hull near what appeared to be some sort of air vent. "There's our huckleberry."

"Do it, Corp." Jones said urgently. They were running out of time. The cannon had picked up its rate of fire as it chewed through the boulders that protected their friends.

Mallory squeezed the trigger on the detonator. A monumental explosion rocked the vehicle above them, tilting it to the port side. The third and fourth tires exploded with a release of air pressure that knocked both of the Rangers off of their feet. Only the combined mass of the vehicle's armor and crew compartments saved them from being incinerated in the blast.

Mallory picked himself up and listened for the continuing firing of the heavy phaser. The only sound he heard was the steady approach of the American raiders. He peeked out from between the two ruined tires and peered upwards. The side of the hull was a covered in black scorch marks. The menacing cannon slagged downwards at an unnatural angle and steam from the rain boiled off of its mangled barrel.

Ahead of him approached three C2V, a speedy pair of unarmored humvees, and even an MRAP IV with the new hydrogen fuel cells all the REMFs were excited about.

"Looks like the ETs are realizing what's going on up here. Whole mess of them turning our way down there." Jones said.

Mallory turned and saw the medic was at the port side of the undercarriage scanning back across the valley. Their time was running short. Mallory's concentration shifted when the metallic sound of bolts being removed came from the hull above him. He looked that way to determine where the sound was coming from, wiping the rain out of his eyes as he did so. Forward of the slagged cannon a heavy door swung outwards with a groaning creak.

A trio of ETs in their white and black camouflaged armor jumped to the ground and began engaging the oncoming vehicles. They hadn't yet noticed the presence of the two Rangers underneath their vehicle.

The aliens fired into the approaching vehicles with their hand-held phasers. Mallory watched as the vehicles peeled off into two directions: half of them moving towards the slowly fleeing, floating trucks while the MRAP and two of the C2Vs engaged the ETs outside their vehicle. Their laser rounds tore into the engine compartment of the nearest C2V, causing it to careen out of control. The pale blue flames that erupted from the motor indicated it was one of the few that had sported a hydrogen fuel cell. The front passenger wheel snapped off its axle and bit hard into the ground, sending up a wave of mud as it flipped onto its side. Two Rangers jumped out of the wreck and attempted to return fire.

The three ETs slowly advanced as they fired their phasers from the hip. They didn't duck or react at all when machine gun fire started pouring them from the wildly weaving vehicles. Mallory was furious that the ETs not only didn't seem to fear the Rangers, they seemed to not have any respect for them at all. He clutched at the captured phaser in its holster on his thigh. He had two shots left as far as he could figure. The aliens were only ten yards away.

"Who do these guys think they are? John Wayne?" Jones asked.

Mallory didn't answer. He was staring at the driver of the MRAP IV who was lining up his vehicle for a direct charge right at the three aliens. It was Sergeant Cortez behind the wheel. The three aliens noticed the threat at the same time and turned their ray guns towards the cab of the armored vehicle.

What they didn't notice was the Ranger standing in the rooftop cupola of the vehicle or the weapon the soldier was bringing to bare. The M61 Vulcan had been a mainstay of the American army since Mallory's grandfather had fought in the bloody streets of Saigon during the Tet Offensive. Before a single laser was sent down range the Ranger squeezed his trigger.

"Indy! Move!" Mallory shouted. He turned and tackled the medic. The two of them slammed into the ground behind the shredded third tire just as the rounds started coming in. The minigun let out a buzz-saw howl as it swept the small battlefield. Hot slugs impacted the hull above them and rained down on them like a hail storm from hell.

6,600 thousands 20mm rounds traveling at a rate of 3,450 per second slammed into the three ETs on the opposite side of the massive wheel hub. Tracer fire and ricochets zipped through the air in torrents like deadly horizontal rain. Mallory heard the remainder of the right side tires lose their air pressure as they were punctured over and over. The Juggernaut took on a pronounced lean to its right.

Suddenly the firing stopped. Mallory and Jones were on their feet in an instant, weapons in their hands and ready to deal out death on any ET that remained. Mallory could hear the MRAP IV slowing to a stop next to the juggernaut. Distant explosions marked the deaths of the floating trucks the gargantuan vehicle had been escorting. From the lack of return fire Mallory figured they must have been full of supplies and not fresh troops.

"Clear hot!" Mallory yelled at the nearby vehicle.

"Clear!" Cortez's voice came from outside the undercarriage. "Mal, get your broke dick self out here."

"Fuckin A, Sarge!" Mallory yelled. He tried to remain focused as relief washed over his body causing his body slightly tremor. Stay sharp, Ranger. You're not home yet, he told himself.

He emerged to see that the MRAP was parked over the remains of the three ETs. Blood and offal was sprayed across the hull. Even cutting through the rain the smell of three bodies ripped to shreds assaulted his nostrils. He forced the discomfort to the back of his mind.

A moaning creek from above made him turn his rifle in that direction. Above him a gray uniformed crewman was trying desperately to close the boarding hatch the three ETs had emerged from. Mallory stayed his hand momentarily, surprised again at how human the ETs looked.

"Hell no, you don't" Jones growled. His Mossberg 590 roared out on full automatic. The medic's blasts caught the alien crewman in the upper torso and neck. The ETs face exploded with brain and bone as the body was flung back into the compartment.

"Fire in the hole!" Cortez threw a grenade. "Go! Go! Go!"

The grenade exploded from inside the vehicle's hull. The sound was hollow, like the M80s Mallory and his brother used to light underneath coffee cans on the 4th of July when they were kids.

The MRAP was parked next to the hull in a position where the hatch could be reached easily by a soldier jumping across from its roof. The Ranger who had been manning the Vulcan stood up and lurched toward the opening. In midair two laser rounds caught him in the stomach. More rounds impacted the corpse as it slammed lifelessly onto the inner deck of the Juggernaut.

Mallory and a female Ranger were the next through the door. An alien in white armor with red stripes stood over the first Ranger. The ET was missing his helmet and the look upon its face was one of pure satisfaction for its recent kill. That look turned to shock as it saw the weapon in Mallory's hand. Mallory pushed the strange firing stub with his thumb twice just as the other Ranger opened up with her assault rifle. Red bolts cleanly burned through the alien's chest and out its back. The bullets put a finishing touch to the ET's head, which came apart in spectacular fashion, spraying a bright red sunburst of blood and bone chips and gray matter everywhere. The alien crumpled lifelessly to the deck.

Mallory took a long hard look at what little remained of the not-quite human alien's face as his red blood oozed across the deck. God, I still can't get over how much they look just like us, he thought.

He brought his M6A3 up to his shoulder in the ready position, wary of the sudden appearance of another alien. It was his first time inside an Imperial vehicle and the details were jarring in their similarities. Not-quite leather seats lined one of the not-quite steel walls of the chamber. A large machine filled the center of the vehicle covered in a transparent, not-quite plastic shield. Strange alien hieroglyphs with the appearance of instructions covered several of the panels on the machinery. Gear and weapons were strewn about the compartment in the organized haphazard way of soldiers forced to live in small confines for long amounts of time. Mallory had seen the look time and time again in American bunkers.

Cortez entered the compartment and brushed past Mallory, making straight for the humming machinery which Mallory figured was the massive Juggernaut's engine.

"Stay frosty, Mal. There's no telling how many of these fuckers are still aboard. Watch that tunnel there." Cortez pointed at a darkened passageway that led to the rear of the vehicle.

"They've got some kind of blast shield in front of the cab." Reported Private Armstrong, the Ranger who had entered with Mallory. She was across the room with her ear pressed up against a metal hatch that blocked another passageway forward. "I can hear them moving around in there."

The compartment they were in was divided into two decks and Mallory looked up as he heard several pairs of heavy footfalls run across the deck above their heads. The aliens were circling them. Any second now they would come at them from both sides.

Cortez continued to study the engine in front of them. He called back over his shoulder. "Don't bother trying to break in. We haven't got the time or the equipment to get through that door. Mallory, Armstrong start grabbing anything you can carry that looks important."

Armstrong moved away from the door and started grabbing some small electronic devices on the seats and a rolled up a small stack of plastic paper and stuffed it into her pants. Mallory never took his eyes off the rear tunnel as he crouched down and picked up the dead ET's phaser rifle. There were several larger phasers in a weapon rack along a nearby wall. Fortunately, they had slings and so he slung five of them bandolier style across his back. He stuffed other wordly ammo magazines into his pockets.

"Sarge, we gotta go!" Jones called from the doorway. The medic was standing on the roof of the MRAP watching to the west. "ETs are coming up hard from the interstate and those charlie-whiskies that went by an hour ago are heading back this way. The guys hitting the Imp trucks in back of us are already on their way out."

"Tell everyone to break contact and meet back at the rally point." Cortez said, "And get the MRAP. . ."

A green phaser bolt came from a sliding bolt hole in the ceiling, catching Private Armstrong in the gut. The superheated plasma round sliced instantly through the Ranger's body armor and her abdominal muscles before burning it way out Armstrong's lower back. The private let out an involuntary scream and collapsed to the deck.

"Indy, get her out of here! Mallory, cover me!" Cortez shouted. The NCO removed a large satchel from his back and ducked behind the engine.

Mallory fired off a stream of rounds towards the area the shot had come from. Behind him Jones picked up Armstrong and threw the critically injured soldier over his shoulders with a loud grunt of exertion. Armstrong's abandoned rifle rattled onto the deck.

"Moving! Cover me!" The medic yelled.

Mallory grabbed a grenade from his LBV and pulled the pin. "Covering!" He flung the grenade down the passageway and ducked behind a sturdy-looking bulkhead. Jones was already moving before it detonated. Three more green lasers flashed over the medic's head from the other end of the tunnel. They ceased when the explosive fragmentation of the grenade filled the hallway. Mallory spun back towards the tunnel and fired off half a clip from his rifle for good measure.

"Mal, get the fuck out! We have forty-five seconds from when I pull the cord." Cortez shouted when the medic and wounded man were clear.

Mallory looked over at his Sergeant. Cortez was standing next to the engine, one hand holding a cord wrapped around a firing pin attached to the satchel he had carried aboard. The satchel pack was wedged behind several not-quite rubber tubes that had the appearance of fuel transfer lines. Getting off the Juggernaut and away from that bomb suddenly became Mallory's number one mission in life.

He sprinted for the doorway and leaped out into the open air. He landed squarely on the rain-slick top of the MRAP and banged his shin hard on the sharp edge of the cupola. A sharp pain sang out from the offended appendage.

Before Mallory had time to think Cortez landed right next to him, the unattached cord still in his hand. The nimble NCO wasted no time and rolled off the side of the armored vehicle, landing squarely next to the driver side door. Mallory was amazed the Mexican hadn't broke both his ankles with that drop.

Cortez flung open the door and leaped behind the wheel all the time shouting orders to Rangers piling into the back of the MRAP. "Mal, get the fuck on that gun!"

Mallory didn't respond. He just slid feet first into the cupola behind the gatling gun as the MRAP lurched ahead. Mallory dropped the alien weapons off his back and they crashed down into the cab of the rapidly accelerating transport. He just missed Jones who was frantically trying to stem the flow of blood pouring out of Armstrong underneath him. Mallory tore his eyes away from the working medic and focused on the Vulcan.

He peered back at the Juggernaut as the MRAP sped away. Figures were moving in the doorway. He spotted an ET in the hatch drop to a knee and take aim at them with its phaser-rifle. It was at that moment that Cortez's demolitions erupted behind the alien. The powerful blast tore through the sturdy engine and shredded the ET in the doorway, flinging its body out the open hatch. It landed in a bloody, burning heap twenty yards away.

The Juggernaut itself momentarily lurched upwards, relieving the stress on its giant tires before settling down upon its axles again. Smoke poured out of the vehicle in great torrents. Hatches on top of the enemy tank popped open and Mallory spotted crewmen trying to escape the inferno that was now engulfed the heavy escort.

He spun up the Vulcan and fired off a thousand rounds towards the evasive ETs. Pink mist sprayed into the air around one of the aliens as the bullets struck home. The remainder of the crew took cover behind turrets and pieces of equipment on the roof of the Juggernaut.

Mallory noticed the five bullet-riddled piles of scrap that lay in the wake of the Juggernaut. They burned furiously despite the pouring rain. He wondered what the floating trucks had been carrying. Whatever it was the Imperials would never get a chance to use it. Several alien bodies lay next to the trucks where their drivers had tried to escape the ambush on foot. The Rangers didn't have time for prisoners and the aliens must have been gunned down as they fled. Mallory let loose with a stream of high-powered rounds into the burning wrecks to add to the destruction.

"I love the smell of burning plasma in the morning!" Cortez yelled from the driver's cab below him, "Smells like victory!"

"What was that, Sarge?" Mallory screamed back over the roar of the MRAP's racing engine and the rapid cycling of the Vulcan.

"Classical reference! Keep your eyes on the ETs in the valley! We're not home safe till we make it over the ridge!"

Mallory looked ahead of them. Two C2Vs weaved through the rocky terrain heading towards the top of the slope. He swung the Vulcan to the rear. A packed Humvee followed in their wake. Below them in the valley he could make out several more Juggernauts and those bipedal chicken-walkers racing after them in hot pursuit. They were still at least a mile behind them and Mallory was sure they would make their escape over the hill before the Imperials caught up to them.

Suddenly there was a flash of light to the east just before two powerful phasers smashed into the trailing Humvee.

The hapless vehicle was flung several feet into the air. Its front end stopped moving as if it had crashed into a brick wall. The rear end lifted higher into the air and kept moving forward propelled by the vehicle's previous motion. The doomed vehicle split apart after neatly being bisected by the laser. Wounded and dead Rangers spilled from the wreck as it crashed back into the ground.

He turned the gatling to the east and was mortified to see that the camel-walkers that had passed by earlier had returned. The dozen heavy walkers were advancing down the slope of Clark Mountain. They were at least five miles away. At this distance they looked like tiny, malicious ants. Flashes of light twinkled near their distant heads, followed instantly by giant geysers of mud and sand erupting all around the fleeing Ranger vehicles. The Americans had learned the hard way that if the charlie-whiskies could see you, they could shoot you.

Cortez pitched the MRAP IV violently to the right and then even harder to the left in an effort to throw off the aim of their pursuers. Inside the crew compartment Indy shouted in frustration as he tried to stabilize the wounded Armstrong despite the vehicle's wild maneuvering. Mallory held on to the cupola for dear life as he banged his ribs and kidneys into the hatch's sides. He ducked as an explosion to their front flung a large man-sized cactus up and over the MRAP. Cortez barreled on through the explosion as dirt rained down on Mallory.

"Go! Go! Go!" Mallory hardly realized he was shouting, let alone breathing. If one of those lasers hit the MRAP IV he realized he'd never live long enough to realize it.

Cortez steered the racing armored truck through a maze of house sized boulders near the top of the ridge, placing the rocks between them and the alien onslaught. Mallory lost sight of the other vehicles in the desert labyrinth of rocks and cacti. Huge phasers tore into the boulders as the aliens probed for the hidden Rangers. Rocks bounced around as deadly shrapnel, blasted off the sides of the boulders around the fleeing MRAP. Cortez sideswiped a tank-sized boulder with a monstrous, metallic crunching noise. Mallory doubted the Sergeant ever applied the brakes.

Suddenly they were out in the open again, smashing their way through tumbleweeds and scrub brush. Some of it was aflame already thanks to near misses from ET lasers. A C2V ahead of them disappeared over the lip of the ridge ahead. They were only a hundred yards from the top and Cortez was gunning the fuel cell-powered engine as hard as he could. A few seconds and they'd be safe and out of the line of sight of those terrible, burning phasers.

Wham!

A heavy phaser slammed down underneath the driver side of the MRAP. The vehicle was hurled into the air. Mallory was pitched forward and slammed his face into the trigger mechanism of the Vulcan. His nose broke and he lost several teeth but he was still conscious. He was whipped backwards and could taste coppery blood on his tongue. His eyes went wide as he realized the MRAP was spinning sideways in midair.

The heavy vehicle came down on the two wheels of the passenger side. Mallory was hurled into the right side of cupola. He heard shouts from below as the rest of the soldiers jammed into the vehicle were thrown across the passenger compartment. The MRAP continued moving forward. If it went over on its side they were all dead men.

He held on for dear life, afraid he would be thrown free. He silently willed the vehicle back to its left side. After what felt like forever he felt it slowly tipping before thankfully slamming back down onto all four wheels again. Cortez floored it. A phaser exploded in the spot they had just vacated, washing superheated air over Mallory's back and neck.

A second later they crested the hill. Their pursuers vanished as the peak separated them. Mallory whipped the Vulcan around and scanned the rain cloud-filled sky for any signs of those rotter-less helicopters the Imperials used. Once into the next valley the vehicles scattered in the rain and ground fog.

"One more day the ETs didn't get me." Mallory said softly to himself, assured his words were drowned out by the MRAP's engine. "But they'll get another chance tomorrow. Unless I get them first."

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**Several years ago I was driving across the US near where this POV occurs. I tried to imagine what it would look like to see an Imperial walker on the horizon or what it would be like for humvees to battle AT-STs and speederbikes. On my long drive I began to think what would have to happen for the Empire to arrive at Earth and from my musings came the seeds for Tarkin's Fist. So here it is after 600,000 words the POV that was the genesis of them all. Fittingly released on my birthday. Hope you enjoy and all reviews are always appreciated**


	61. Kuat 5

**112**th** floor, Bador and Ronay Executive Tower, Kuati Research Sector, Culter City, Mars**

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"Stang it, Kuantus. I want someone's _shebs_ for this unadulterated catastrophe." Culter ranted.

"Calm down, Uredo. You look ready to pop a blood vessel. You're losing focus on our match."

Between the two Moffs rested a glass chess board with the pieces cut into various figures from the Clone War. Culter had introduced Kuat to the game after his fellow Moff had discovered its existence from the Earth's internet. Though Kuat thought the game resembled dejarik he found the Terran game much more enjoyable than its holographic counterpart. It was a true battle of wits with another opponent, of which Uredo was quite formidable. His anger today, however, had taken his focus from the game.

"Who can think about a game at a time like this?" Culter sighed in frustration, "Such a waste, Venus was .9g Coruscant Standard and just a tad smaller than Earth and over four times larger than Mars. With two continents, Ishtar and Aphrodite, ripe for development. We would have had a sunshield in place next year made of pure lunatic aluminum. We were already lowering the surface temperature five degrees standard every month through our use of Van-Neumann self-replicating chemical factories. They were so essential for breaking oxygen out of the frozen carbon dioxide that covered that poor planet. They're all gone now."

"How would you have overcome the flammability of a pure oxygen atmosphere?" The Kuat of Kuat asked.

"Argon mining on Luna would have served in a pinch or nitrogen from Titan. We would have had to extend our use of Terran slave labor for those planned projects, much to my chagrin. And that source of labor is stretched almost to its breaking point. You know as well as any other that I have argued long and hard with the Emperor that we should abandon this foolish venture on Earth and start large scale droid production." Culter slumped in his chair in the middle of Kuat's penthouse suite, utterly despondent.

"But where would we have found the work force necessary to kick start such a large manufacturing need, especially with so many other demands weighing on the Empire? I already have a third of the civilian workforce employed round the chromo at the _Ares_ driveyard. Come take some blossom wine with me." Kuantus had never seen his friend this angry. After three standard years of acquaintance he had rarely seen any sort of emotion from the unassuming terraformer.

"Blossom wine? I thought we were nearly running out of the last of our spices and liquors from the Home Galaxy. Though I guess if anyone could attain a supply it would be you, Kuantus." A WA-7 service droid rolled forward and poured two glasses of the wine and handed them to Kuat and his guest before silently retreating to the corner of the room.

"Actually, this label is one of yours. Grown on a vineyard out on the Chryse Planitia on one of your agricombine vineyards." Kuat explained.

"It is? I knew that, I think. Forgive me but my mind is focused on this unmitigated disaster the Emperor has allowed to happen." Culter drank half his glass in one swallow. Kuat raised a concerned eyebrow. It was well known that Culter couldn't hold his liquor. His guest was focused on the board between them, contemplating his next move.

Kuat also knew what his colleague was furious over. The Martian HoloNews had endlessly played and replayed footage from the twin disasters over its twenty-four hour news cycle ever since they had occurred a week ago.

"Thirty-five hundred of the best terraformers I've ever trained. Two thousand of them clone younglings that I had spent an incredible expense on growing and flash-training. The Morseerian species completely wiped out. The Skakoans had less than a dozen of their beings on Mars at the time of the attack and so they can no longer be considered viable by any means. They'll be extinct within a generation." Culter seemed on the verge of tears.

"Not to mention the six thousand crewmembers of the _Eradicate. _She was lost with all hands." Kuat mentioned as he moved his queen across the board to capture one of Culter's rooks. He felt the loss of the Star Destroyer as he would have felt the loss of a child but he was never one to wear his emotions on the surface.

The _Victory II_-class of warship had been the first design that he had constructed for the Old Empire after he had wrestled control of KDY away from his sister, Onara. He remembered showing his son the designs of the _Eradicate_ before the boy had taken over as the Board of Director of the Kuat Drive Yards. His son's ingenious and calculating mind had suggested a score of superior alterations that the two of them had implemented on the next class of Star Destroyers; the _Imperial Is_. The memory stirred a longing that Kuat was careful to hide. His separation from his offspring tugged at him more and more as the years went by.

"Them too, I guess." Culter said absently.

Kuat wondered if the Anoat Governor had even considered the military casualties as any sort of loss. "I take it there were none of your prized Kaminoan aboard the _Sweet Skako_ when she was attacked."

"No, thank the Core. The colony vessel had only a skeleton maintenance crew aboard when she was struck. The few Kaminoan we have left are still at their cloning facility aboard the _Biology_, finishing the batch of Twi'lek and Kaminoan clones destined for the _Tchun-Tchin_ when it is completed." Culter sighed with visible relief. His future terraforming efforts relied heavily on the fishy cloners from the Rishi Maze. Already several of them had disappeared in the prior months and it had been a great source of stress for his friend.

"The _Tchun-Tchin_ should be ready to sail in five weeks. A few days for a shake-down cruise and then it should be set to catch up to the _StarGate_ just as the exploratory vessel approaches the colony site near Epsilon Eridani." Kuat said.

"And she'll be fully stocked with hypermatter?" Culter asked as he moved his bishop to threaten Kuat's king. "Check."

"The Emperor has promised. He is as eager to spread the Empire as we are. If all goes as planned the _Tchun-Tchin_ should rendezvous with the _StarGate_ thirty-seven minutes after her launch from Mars." Kuat proudly boasted about his two vessels while moving his king out of danger.

"The Emperor, bah! A blue-shadow pox upon him. What does he know about creation? The man is a creature of the Old Imperial Navy and knows nothing but destruction. He punished that Captain Yutu with a paid suspension of duties, I'm surprised he didn't award the man a medal. I blame the Emperor solely for this outrage." Culter injected bile into every syllable. His hand turned white as he squeezed the glass in his hand until it shattered. Wine and glass spilled down to splash across the Wrodian carpet at the Moff's feet.

"My apologies, Kuantus. I fear I let my anger get the better of me."

"Think nothing of it. As I've said, the callous loss of the _Eradicate_ has upset me as well." He looked at his friend's hand and noticed a trickle of crimson. "It appears you've cut yourself, Uredo. Droid, bring a bandage and another glass for Uredo." Kuat ordered the mechanical servant.

Culter looked surprised as he studied his hand. "I have, haven't I?"

"Here is a bacta-wipe and a bandage, my Lord." The WA-7 said as it held out a silver tray containing several medical items. The serving platter also held another glass of wine. A mouse droid rushed in to clean up the mess at Culter's feet.

"Thank you." Culter took the medical supplies and looked to his small wound. "I'm sorry, I'm so flustered. I cannot even enjoy myself and concentrate on our game. Yos has done this to me. The man has no sense of respect or awe at the greatness of creating life."

"But of course he does. He has arranged for the exploration of nearby systems and placed orders for several planets to be terraformed over the next decade. He is cultivating the New Empire, which cannot be an easy process."

"Yes, Kuantus, but at what cost? As you know I have never been a fan of this Empire-Earth War the Emperor has engaged us in."

"You have never been very vocal about it, my friend. I think you rather like to play your sabacc close to your chest. Even in the Old Empire no more than a dozen of our fellow Moffs even knew of your existence." Kuantus said, knowing that he had been one of those few and only after Tarkin had introduced him under the premise of forming _Tarkin's Fist_.

"That is true. Palpatine only recognized me for my ability to transform certain worlds he had his eye on: Centax-1, Hanoon, Torina and a few others. I was scouting a frozen, backrocket world named Hoth in the wilds of the Anoat Sector when the call to form the fleet came from Tarkin. I doubt Palpatine has even noticed my absence, which is all well and good. I never craved power like the other Moffs. My one desire has always been to spread life and create worlds that could benefit all beings."

"Ah, then I could see why war would upset you. There is nothing more destructive." Kuantus sipped his wine.

"I've studied our sensor reports with a heavy heart. Life sign scanners had indicated eight billion beings on Earth when we entered the local system. I never saw their primitiveness as a detriment to them becoming a great species, perhaps even a viable ally."

"But they had only progressed to the point of a single outpost on this world, their closest neighbor, when we arrived and resorted to threatening each other with nuclear weapons. They are a score of millennium behind us." Kuat wondered if he had been bigoted against the local inhabitants due to their primitiveness.

"Does that make them our enemy? Yos made no attempt to contact them. We were adrift in this system beyond any means of help and what did we do? The old Imperial-two step into the inner system. I was one of the few who weren't surprised when they attacked that Star Destroyer before the war, what was it called?"

"The _Insertion._" Kuat answered remembering the indignation he had felt at the idea of one of his vessels taking damage from aboriginals. "The near-humans of Earth are as devious and treacherous as any Separatist in the Clone War. They are a stagnant species stuck for millennium in their own system with no collective dream to reach out for the stars of their galaxy. They are practically barbarians. They are the ones willing to utilize nuclear, chemical and biological weapons against us. Doesn't that show that they are equally willing to destroy their own planet?"

"To expel us from their world. Besides, we have destroyed their nuclear arsenal and the organophosphate nerve agents they use can be neutralized with running water in quantity, it takes out the chlorine atom. And you can burn the others. Though, granted, its best to be upwind when you do it."

"The Terrans must already know how to neutralize their own weapons. Except, of course, for the nuclear weapons they so freely throw about whenever they see fit. And who can say whether or not they truly have any left now? At the very least their species is a hazard to navigation within this system." Kuat chuckled. He enjoyed debating scientific and political topics whenever they arose."

"And for that, Yos went and bombarded their world without so much as a declaration of war. Now our orbital lifeform scanners show a loss of life of a quarter of the larger, sentient lifeforms of their world. Diminishing global climate patterns and analysis of planted crops and agricultural reserves indicate the inhabitants of Earth do not have the means to support half of the survivors. I have also read troubling reports that an outbreak of the Festering Plague is spreading from examinations of prisoners we've taken. I have brought this to the Emperor's attention and was completely ignored. Yos would have rathered discuss my designs for terraforming more exoplanets, worlds we have not even reached yet, than do anything to defend the settlement on Earth 2. I do not know how his Majesty sleeps at night. I hardly do anymore, which has caused my wife and younglings great stress."

Kuat leaned forward. "Perhaps Yos is more concerned with the larger holopic. I must believe his intentions are for the greater good. The beings of Mars will greatly benefit from following his intentions, as will you and I."

"But at what cost are we building this New Empire? Have we completely disregarded where we came from?" Culter asked.

"You forget yourself. The Old Empire was never the grand benefactor you remember. Do you not recall New Plympto, Kashyyyk, Haruun Kal, Ghorman, Naboo? And I'm fairly certain Palpatine had something to do with that mess on Caamas. He must have driven hundreds of systems into the hands of that mysterious rebellion he was always going on about."

"And you don't believe Emperor Yos will do the same if future worlds get out of line?" Culter growled. "The Emperor believes he is a man of vision but he bogs himself down in regimented schedules and timetables. We rushed the terraformation of Mars so quickly that we're still having gravitation and temperature problems across the globe. The Empire should be allowed to freely spread at the whim of its beings, at its own pace, carried across the void by the will of the Force."

"Those worlds will depend on the stability of the Martian Empire and the House of Yos. There will be no brewing rebellion as there was in the Old Empire. Especially once the _Ares_ is complete." Kuat pointed out the nearby terrace viewport. "She shall be the embodiment of the Tarkin Doctrine in the Milky Way."

"Your faith in your new toy is as disturbing as Yos's flippant and irresponsible warmongering." Culter replied. "I hope you are satisfied with the blood you two have on your hands"

"Uredo, I am nothing more than a scientist and a shipwright. I do not push the blasting stub of the weapons I create, no more than you farm the worlds you have terraformed. Yos had no way of knowing the Terrans were about to launch an attack on Earth 2, nor that they were still capable of crippling the fleet. We were lucky that they didn't launch their attack on Culter City."

"Impossible this time of the year. Their orbit has recently moved to the far side of Sol. Those slugs they launched at Earth 2 would have had to traverse well within the star's corona. Even the Terrans would have calculated that the Sol's gravity would have altered their trajectory or that the star's plasma field would have more or less melted the slugs in flight. They shouldn't have a straight shot at Mars for two of our standard months or three of theirs."

"That's reassuring. We are in the process of designing a planetary shield for Mars but the project had a low priority before the attack. As you can imagine Yos has lit a fire under the Alderaanians who built those Target City shields for the campaign on Earth. In the meantime he's withdrawn several of his warships from the Subterrel Squadron for close-in defense of this planet. Seco has done his bit by ordering the destruction of anything on Earth that even remotely resembles a railgun or launch site." Kuat said. He found it trying that Culter was laying some of the blame on his shoulders as well as Yos's but wanted to avoid direct arguments in order not to offend his friend and ally.

"What do you think our friend, Seco's, opinion of all this has been?" Culter asked.

Kuat grimaced. He hated the Ploo Moff and longed to be rid of him. He suspected that the time was coming when his fellow Moff would no longer be a concern. Seco would flee like the scum that he was. "There is no way that Vulnert knew of the Terran attack beforehand. Not with SigInt's failure to insert spies among the Terrans. On the HoloNews he has loudly decreed the Terrans as cowards for the attack. The loss of the _Eradicate_ has proven to be quite the embarrassment for the Theater Commander."

"Yet he hasn't ordered a Base Delta Zero upon the entirety of their world or one of its continents, nor has he attempted to conquer and occupy the entirety of Earth. This shows he must have some respect for the Terrans. My understanding is that he is only waiting for the surrender of some of Earth's politicians before peace negotiations can begin." Culter said, full of naive hope.

"Perhaps." Kuat knew the real reason Seco hadn't obliterated the Earth was that Yos had forbade it. The Emperor needed a source of labor for the immense range of projects he had planned for the Martian Empire and Earth was the only discovered source of slaves in the Milky Way so far. Still, Kuat didn't need Culter seeking answers from Seco. He decided it was time to sow seeds of doubt about the Ploo Moff's intentions.

"Have any of your officers reported being approached by agents bearing large amounts of aurodium?"

"Not that I am aware. Princess Phasma broached that same question with me a few weeks ago. I'll tell you what I told her. The clones under Admiral Bacara do not discuss many things with me. I find it easier to let them do what they do without my supervision, though I have heard some grumbling about the presence of Commissars in their ranks. I assumed this was just a way for Yos to establish greater command and control in the fleet and army and therefore none of my concern."

"It may be your concern one day. I am of the belief that Seco has found a large store of aurodium, perhaps on Earth itself, and is slowly buying the loyalty of key officers around the fleet." Kuat said.

"For what purpose? He wouldn't dare move against Yos when the Ploo Sector Fleet is outnumbered three to one. You don't suppose he is trying to buy the loyalty of officers who are tired of the war and are ready to start peace negotiations with the Terrans?" Culter asked eagerly.

No, Kuat didn't suppose that at all. "I believe he intends to move against the Emperor, but not as you believe. I think he is awaiting the delivery of hypermatter to the Ploo Squadron and then will leave this local system to explore and claim his own little satrap somewhere outside of the 1st Martian Empire."

"Ah, this makes some sense. His absence will surely force the Emperor to abandon this folly we're undertaking on Earth. Do you suppose Seco would be more lax on terraforming regulations? I have always dreamed of going into the private sector and molding whole systems to my vision. Perhaps I should discuss this with Vulnert?"

"Do not be so hasty. Seco has never been one to be trusted." Kuat warned, suddenly afraid of losing his closest ally to his greatest enemy. "You are welcome to speak with him, but do not be foolish enough to believe the poison that comes from his lips."

"Surely, Seco isn't the Hutt you say he is. I only mean to speak with the man and see if our goals go along the same hyperlanes."

"Then be careful, Uredo. I feel a schism coming on, one that may shake the New Empire to its core. I would hate to find us on opposing sides." Kuat realized he was gripping his own wine glass tightly and loosened his grip before his glass shattered like Culter's had. It occurred to him that he wasn't angry, but fearful of the mechanisms the absent Ploo Moff could unleash. The man was in control of the majority of the military might of _Tarkin's Fist,_ after all.

"Then I must do my best to prevent any sort of war happening here on Mars. This world was my first project in our new home and has great sentimental value to me. If he left us here while taking with him several million of his followers it would upset the delicate balance of an absurd amount of species." Culter suddenly stood. "I must speak with Seco at once before anything foolish happens."

Kuat frowned, he didn't like looking up at beings while he remained seated but he was much too old to spring to his feet with any sense of urgency. "You must do what you think is right, of course. But I must say that I'm against any action that would give strength to Seco's position." Kuat slowly stood up. "Let the Emperor handle what arises. He has guided us well so far in our exile."

"Tell that to the Morseerians or the Skakoans. Their blood shall forever be on his hands."

Kuat could feel the pain in his friend's words. It was obvious Culter would mourn the loss of the colonists for the remainder of his days. "I wish you would stay, Uredo. There is still much to discuss."

"I thank you for your hospitality, my friend. But every moment spent in conference is another moment that beings perish. I must do what I can to put an end to it. I will speak to Seco."

"You must follow your conscience of course. But I fear that if Seco foolishly abandons us the war will still remain." Kuat worried. An exodus of a fourth of the Martian population along with the warships of the Ploo Squadron would seriously hamper the advancement of their newborn Empire.

The WA-7 appeared at Culter's side carrying the Moff's heavy cloak for protection against the steady rain that was pouring outside. Culter donned the garment and Kuat walked Culter to the landing pad entrance. He chose to say nothing though in his heart he knew Culter was making a mistake in seeking council with the vile Seco. In time, when Culter realized his mistake, he would once again stand firmly with the Emperor. But would it be too late? Kuat could feel invisible pieces moving across the playing board of the 1st Martian Empire.

The phrik doors slid to the sides of the entrance way as the WA-7 deactivated the entrance-shield security energy field. The beating sound of rain upon the permacrete landing pads engulfed Kuat's penthouse apartment. The steady noise was interrupted by the venting of pressurized gas from the landing jets of an approaching _Lambda_ shuttle.

Kuat looked up in time to watch the wings fold up along the fuselage of the shuttle as it came in for a soft landing. The gray transport settled down between Kuat's apartment and Culter's waiting _Nune_-class shuttle. Kuat studied the arrival. He wasn't expecting any guests.

"We will speak soon, Kuantus." Culter nodded his head in farewell.

"I look forward to it. Safe journeys, Uredo." Culter skirted the venting gases as he followed a circular path around the _Lambda._ Kuat could see the pilots in the shuttle and neither of them showed any sense of alarm that Culter was leaving, which told him that the shuttle's passenger was there to see him and not his former guest.

Kuat heard heavy boots upon the plush carpets of his home. He didn't bother to turn as six heavily armed Kuati marines rushed by him onto the landing pad. Once there they spread apart and took up positions in front of the shuttle. Two of them blocked Kuat from harm. By the looks on their faces and the way they rested their hands on their holstered blasters Kuat could tell they weren't happy about the surprise arrival either.

The landing ramp lowered. A dozen stormtroopers stomped down the reverberating hatch. Their plastoid boots splashed through scattered puddles across the landing pad. They drew their E-11s and held them on the Kuati guards. Kuat noticed that the stormtroopers bore the unit insignia of the Home Legion.

Except for the falling rain and the distant roar of airways forty floors below Kuat's suite silence permeated the landing pad. Nobody moved.

Kuat's eyes moved back to the transport. An Imperial officer stood atop the ramp silhouetted by the interior light. It was evident he was waiting for Kuat to notice him before he started to come forward, his arms clasped behind his back. He came to a stop just under the lip of the fuselage to keep out of the rain.

"Captain Charge," Kuat said as he recognized one of the Directors of the Emperor's Bureau of Operations. The Directors were the trio of Imperial officers that ran the day-to-day business of managing the Martian Empire. Kuat idly wondered why Yos hadn't gotten around to promoting them all to Admirals yet. "To what do I owe this unexpected surprise?"

"New security directives, my Lord. May I come in?" Charge inquired. With the amount of stormtroopers he brought with him he didn't have to ask but Kuat appreciated the courtesy from the younger man, after showing up on his doorstep unannounced.

"Of course, Captain. Do come in out of the rain." Kuat replied, trying not to let his irritation show in his voice.

The Imperial officer strolled into Kuat's spacious suite. In the short distance from shuttle to apartment water had soaked into the man's uniform and cap. The stormtroopers and the Kuati security personnel stayed outside in the weather.

"Wine?" Kuat asked graciously indicating the bottle on the WA-7's serving tray.

"No. I cannot stay long and this is official business." Charge answered.

"And what business does the Bureau of Operations want with me today? Some new super weapon that can destroy Earth in a single blast? Or perhaps new starship engines that could make magical hyperjumps without hypermatter to deal with the shortage?" Kuat poured himself a glass of the dark-red drink. "This security directive nonsense sounds a bit vague."

"Yes, to all of those, I'm sure. I apologize that I wasn't able to inform you of my arrival beforehand. Time constraints with the war and all. I have been in communication with our Theater Commander, Moff Seco." Captain Charge said, as if Kuat had forgotten Seco's pompously inflated title." He believes that due to the recent disaster on Earth 2 that security around high-ranking members of _Tarkin's Fist_ is seriously lacking. It is his right under the Emergency Military Powers Act to request this and I have just signed the orders myself that all private security troopers for the Moff Council are to be replaced by loyal members of the Home Legion."

"I hardly think it would matter who was guarding me in the event that the Terrans launch another one of their giant slugs at Mars." Kuat felt his anger starting to grow. Not only had he not been consulted but new guards were being placed around him who were no longer loyal sons and daughters of Kuat. He gathered that they were ordered to protect him at all cost but what would happen when they were ordered to turn their blasters on him? He remembered all too well the complacency that had led up to Order 66 being the downfall of the Jedi.

"By the Emperor, may that never come to pass. The Fleet is pounding anything that even looks like a hint of a _planechanga._ If the Terrans are blasted back to the copper-age I wouldn't shed a tear. My fear is, of course, for the several million laborers we are keeping in that large camp on the other side of the planet. The slave uprising a few months ago hasn't been forgotten."

"Besides Lady Harris and her younglings I know of no Terran that has managed to enter Culter City. I fear the Terrans have you jumping at your own shadows." Kuat warned.

"Lady Harris?" Kuat detected a hint of disgust in Charge's tone. "Lady Harris poses a different sort of threat towards the Empire. Her influence with the heir presumptive is astonishing. But that is neither here nor there. The Bureau is assigning a platoon of troopers from the Home Legion as your personal security escort. All of your previous security personnel are relieved of their duties and are free to be reassigned as you see fit. Just not as your personal security."

"The Bureau feels this way? So Captains Dual and Yutu are in accordance with this course of action?" Kuat asked. His sources had informed him that Charge was becoming much too close with Seco these days.

"My directives do not need further approval from the other Directors."

"But they do need the Emperor's approval. I will take this up with his Majesty at his earliest convenience." Kuat replied.

"You are more than welcome to do so. The Emperor, however, has issued explicit instructions that he is not to be bothered until his next council meeting at the end of this week. I can make arrangements that your security detail ensures your presence at that assemblage." Charge offered. There was something in in his tone that hinted at an eagerness for Kuat to attend that meeting.

"If they are to be truly _my_ protectors then I assume they will follow my orders. I can make the arrangements myself." Kuat said. And I'll convene with Yos afterward to have your head whether you like it or not, he thought.

"Then you've accepted the directive. That is good. Your non-compliance would have been . . . regretful."

"For one of us, I am sure." Kuat replied icily.

"My business here is concluded. The troopers outside shall remain and assume responsibility for your security. You have one hour to dismiss your former guards before the stormtroopers have orders to escort them off of the premises. I bid you farewell, my Lord." Charge snapped to attention and whipped off the Imperial salute.

Kuat didn't bother responding. He just took a sip from his glass. After a moment the Captain lowered his arm and nodded. Charge spun around and walked back out into the rain.

"You're making a mistake, Captain." Kuat said to himself as he watched Charge climb the loading ramp back into his shuttle.

The sergeant in charge of the six Kuati Marines came back into the suite. His men were still staring down the armored stormtroopers on the landing pad. The whine of the shuttle lifting off momentarily filled the penthouse before tapering off as the _Lambda_ dove for the airways far below.

"My Kuat of Kuat, may I ask what is going on?" The NCO inquired.

"You and your men are being reassigned, Sergeant. Replaced by those men out there." Kuat said.

"Sir? Is it a matter of loyalty? I assure you on my honor my men and I can protect you better than that scum." There was a deep anger in the man's voice, kept in check by his loyalty to his Kuat of Kuat.

"I agree with you there, Khoss." He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. Kuat had always made it a point to learn his fellow Kuati's given names. "Theater Commander Seco feels otherwise."

"Does he even have jurisdiction on Mars, my Lord?"

"No, but he is a Moff and the Bureau of Operations certainly does. This leaves me no choice but to accept house arrest until I can meet with the Emperor." He felt an invisible chess piece move across the board.

"Where does this leave us?"

"In check, but this game is a long ways from mate."


	62. SF-4738 five

**500 meters above East Tropicana and Las Vegas Boulevard, Las Vegas, Nevada, NAU, Earth**

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"Incoming!" The MAAT/i pilot shouted.

SF-4738 winced as the auralcasters in his bucket amplified the man's cry to ear-splitting levels.

Between the crackle and the chatter of the auralcasters and the thrumming pulse of the MAAT's repulsorlift turbines, Platoon Sergeant SF-4738 could not hear the distinctive and all too familiar sound of the M270 MLRS rockets that were pounding the hybrid castle-hotel on the southwest corner of the intersection below. Then again, he didn't need to. He could easily follow the bright arcs of their flight paths as they zipped across the roadway to the east and the results that were laid out beneath him like a grotesque work of art painted in blood and fire.

It distressed SF-4738 to see stormtroopers scurrying about, trying to avoid the Vader-black bursts of high-explosive warheads. It distressed him even more to see some of them fail. Scattered around the grounds of what was called Excalibur, according to the holomap in his HUD, were a number of mangled bodies, some still crawling, some limping heavily, others writhing on the ground in agony. Here and there a few crimson lumps did not move at all. Fortunately, the scum behind this barrage were either poor artillery men or didn't know the exact locations of the stormtroopers advancing up what was called 'The Strip' in local parlance. Many of the rockets fell short into hotels to the north of them. A handful of warheads flew wide, crashing into the surrounding buildings, detonating in extravagant blasts of color that rained deadly shards of glass up and down the wide boulevard.

"I have them. By that big, fake aquatic ship about a klick up the Strip." SF-4738 called over the intercom. He pointed at a collection of massive, burned out casinos in that direction. There was a smashed plaster replica of some sort of aquatic vessel in front of one of the buildings and was labeled "Treasure Island" on his holomap.

"In the landspeeder parking behind the buildings. There! See?"

He pointed out the launch plumes to the pilots in the crew cabin. Those great eruptions of smoke and flares wouldn't have been visible from ground level in Las Vegas, hidden as they were behind the buildings. But from their height the abo launchers were easily distinguished from the surrounding rubble.

"Roger, roger," The pilot said. "_Acklay_ one-three, this is _Naboo_ six-one, approaching Treasure Island from the southeast for a visual."

"_Acklay_ one-three copies," SF-4738's auralcasters told him. He glanced out the hatch to see if he could catch a glimpse of _Acklay_ one-three, an advanced gunship fighter assigned as an escort for the transports. He located the gunship on their port side and turned his attention back to the ruins of the casino. "Approaching low from the south. ETA thirty seconds."

"They are MLRS!" Lieutenant Mahan shouted, scoping the landspeeder-mounted launchers with his blaster rifle. They were still too far off for a decent blast. Plumes of smoke obscured one or more multiple launch rocket systems. As the MAAT/i, flew high and, hopefully, out of reach, orbited Treasure Island, a voice in his head crackled, "I count six, seven. . . no, make that an even dozen combatants and three launchers.

"_Acklay_, this is _Naboo._ Did you copy last?"

"_Acklay_ copies. Stay clear of the hotel. It'll be rotten with RPGs." _Acklay_ one-three said.

"No! Get us closer," SF-4738 insisted, taking aim at one of the abos, Tapani by the looks of him, and clad in ragged camouflage fatigues and bulky, useless body armor. "We can take them. Get us in there."

"Not no, but hell no!" The pilot called back.

"But if you get us closer, we can take them out." SF-4738 argued. He wanted those launchers destroyed yesterday.

"Negative Sergeant." The pilot replied. "They'll be waiting for our transports in there with RPGs."

_"Naboo_ six-one, this is _Acklay_ one three. I count fifteen abos around three track-mounted MLRS parked in the landspeeder lot to the west of the casino ruins." _Acklay_ said.

SF-4738 gauged the range at well over a thousand meters away, too far to make a decent blast with his E-11. It was a good weapon but not quite what he needed to take out the abos down in the ruins, especially from the back of the moving MAAT/i. Even at this distance, with the vibrations of the MAAT/i shaking the view in his sight, he could tell the abo scum were whooping it up down there, loving every minute of this. They danced and cheered, many of them in the camouflaged hunting fatigues of civilian fighters, as the rockets flew away. SF-4738 shook his head.

He recalled how easy they had had it after they had busted out of Target East. AT-ATs had pounded everything flat as the spearhead of the Imperial Army charged forward. Out on the desert plains where they had first met the American Army it had been pure slaughter. Nobody had any idea of the enemy's casualties but in his Legion's sector it had run into the thousands, perhaps even the tens of thousands by now. Then came Vegas.

Except for the destruction of a nearby airspeeder base the city had been left alone by the orbital bombardments of the fleet's Star Destroyers. It was one of the few cities left standing on the lesser continental mass. To address this oversight the Imperial Army had done its best to wreck the place with long range artillery barrage before they sent in the troops but there were still a lot of burned out but still standing buildings across the desert metropolis. As the Army maneuvered to encircle the city the abos had dug in and waited. This time they were prepared for the stormtroopers. They had learned a lot from their mistakes in Los Angeles. The city still remained open and unenclosed as Imperial Legions pushed into the city's suburbs. Scuttlebutt from the rear told of Ploo Squadron units left behind to guard the flanks of their advance fighting off an increasing number of probes and raids by the abos on their supply lines. But the dessert was an entirely different world than the urban environment.

By the core, he had come to hate the cities. They were a window pushed open just enough to accommodate the barrel of a sniper's slugthrower. They were a door creaking backwards into a darkened abo hovel, from whence some maniac in a dynamite vest might emerge screaming, "Remember Camp Chicago!" or "Long live America!" before detonating himself.

Lieutenant Mahan had issued standing orders to the platoon: no one was allowed to take any chances. If a building needed to be swept, stormtroopers tossed thermal detonators through the door and then a cip-quad gunner sprayed the room before they went in. If the abos decided a church steeple made a pretty wizard forward observation post, a heavy turbloaser from one of the Armor Squadrons' SPHA-Ts chopped it down. If they used a school or a hospital for a fort, the Legion's artillery hammered it with AV-7 and AT-AP rounds.

No one took any chances anymore. They had all learned the hard way the abos took advantage of any chance you gave them.

He looked around the trooper compartment and caught sight of HF-3105. The lad was no longer the jokester of 3rd Platoon that he had been in the years before the invasion. The young stormtrooper had changed the moment he had learned that his best friend, JN-6166, had bled to death on a repulsor gurney en route to a _Med-Star_ frigate, a casualty of one of the first Being Bomb attacks in Target East. Now he was a quiet, serious trooper going through the motions of day after day combat. How long before he was lost to 3rd Platoon as well? SF-4738 wondered how much this grinding war was changing all of them.

His mind swung back to the battle as he watched an Imperial Navy gunship hovering over The Mirage Casino, out of small-arms slugfire range of the few on the ground who noticed it.

"Stand by," _Acklay_ one-three said over the auralcasters. "Engaging. Missile away."

"Put the hurt on those fierfekers," The MAAT/i pilot said.

The sudden smoke and flame of more steel javelins climbing away from the launchers in the parking lot obscured the enemy but as SF-4738 watched, a barrage of 6cm folding fin Rothana mass-driver missiles sliced through the air and struck the vehicles, tearing them apart in a maelstrom of explosive fire. The cabin of one MLRS went spiraling high into the air, lazily describing a tumbling flight path back toward a cleared patch of cleared ground nearer to Interstate 15.

SF-4738 heard the word "chainblaster" through a rush of static just before off-white bursts of smoke began chewing over the parking lot, which quickly disintegrated into a field of torn steel and fleeing men. Meat and metal swirled in the air, caught in the tornado as the 40-millimeter cannon bolts set off secondary explosions in the wreckage of the MLRS launchers.

"E chu ta!" The MAAT/i pilot whooped. "No being is coming back from that party."

Weapon blasts from heavy anti-airspeeder slugthrowers winked at them from one of the larger ruins. The edifice looked as if it might have once been a rather beautiful and ornate structure, reminiscent of the Imperial Governor's Palace on Teth where SF-4738 had signed his enlistment orders. To SF-4738 that seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago. His eyes flickered over the icon 'Caesar's Palace' on his locator map.

He instinctively reached for the grab bar as the MAAT/i dipped and turned to avoid a line of tracer slugs. The brutal ripping noise of the chainblasters sounded again and when the transport had leveled out and he regained his balance he could see that the incoming anti-airspeeder blasts were no more.

An RPG spun from a window on an unerring path heading straight for the MAAT/i.

"Incoming!" SF-4738 shouted.

The MAAT/i banked and surged forward and his stomach felt as though he had spent the night downing Bantha Blasters that were now threatening to pull his guts out his shebs. With no inertial dampers in the crew compartment g-forces pressed the other stormtroopers and him down into the deck. He had trouble holding his head up to watch the action below.

His efforts were rewarded by the sight of another MAAT/i taking a rocket in their open trooper bay.

Suddenly he was bounced off the durasteel deck of the transport as their MAAT/i came in for a quick, hard landing atop the blackened rooftop of Treasure Island. All up and down the Strip dozens of troop transports were landing atop a score of wrecked and collapsed casinos and hotels. The plan was for a quick seizure of the buildings along Las Vegas Boulevard, coordinated with an assault by the Armored Corps from the south to capture the heart of what the abos had ironically nicknamed "Sin City".

SF-4738 smiled. He knew all sorts of sins would be perpetrated before the fate of Las Vegas was decided. He was back on his feet in an instant.

Twenty stormtroopers poured out of both sides of the transport onto the roof of the wide building, in the shadow of a still standing water tank atop what SF-4738 continued to think of as the Teth Governor's Palace replica. He thanked the Force that no slugthrower shooters had thought to position themselves up there. Although he had to admit if they had, the gunships would have reduced them to pink gruel by now.

"Move your kriffing _shebs_ you Forcedamned Hutt-licking maggots. The abos catch us up here we're fierfeked!" He shouted at the rapidly dispersing squads of troopers as the MAAT/i lifted clear of the roof.

Already another transport was inbound with more of his platoon. Out on the Strip dozens of LAAT/c swooped in to drop off scores of AT-STs up and down the roadway. RPGs and missiles streaked out of almost every building to engage the newly arriving scout walkers. SF-4738 looked to the south where he could make out the shapes of advancing AT-ATs passing a smoking, black pyramid structure, out of which both sides' artillery had bitten large chunks.

"On me!" cried Lieutenant Mahan.

The troopers of 3rd Platoon rushed to follow him across the rooftop toward a small shed that would give them access to a stairwell into the structure. It was maybe a hundred meters away but it felt like a kilometer to SF-4738, who couldn't help glancing over at the wreckage of the nearest anti-airspeeder slugthrower. What was the chance that some new abo goblin would suddenly pop up there and start spitting slugs at them?

The hammering thud of the orbiting gunship that was covering them drew his thoughts back to the here and now. He fingered the safety stud on the matte black FA-3 flechette launcher he had substituted for his E11 blaster rifle back on the MAAT/i. The first round in the chamber was a breaching bolt, a plasma shell filled with wax-bound durasteel powder that would be no good in a fight unless you jammed the muzzle right into the face of an abo. It was, however, purpose built to destroy deadlocks, hinges, and door handles. The platoon made it to the entry point as a stray slug caromed off the sheet metal roof structure. SF-4738 heard the sudden roar of a gunship's chaingun but did not turn around to see the results. Mahan and another trooper, TK-2490, took up positions on either side of the door.

SF-4738 wasted no time, calling out "Clear!" as he ran up, took aim, and blasted a nuna-sized hole where the door handle had been. Racking another bolt into the chamber, a being killer this time, he kicked in the door and blasted into the interior.

"Detonator out!" TK-2490 called as SF-4738 sidestepped and the trooper tossed a thermal detonator through the doorway. They all took cover from the explosion, which shook the entire roof structure beneath their boots. Another trooper, VS-4276 this time, entered with his T-21 light repeating blaster up and ready to hose off any resistance but no answering slugs came from below.

"Going in left!" he called out and SF-4738 entered, his thumb pressing on the blasting stub down halfway, the muzzle pointed down the dark, musty stairwell. The stormtrooper's multi-frequency targeting and acquisition system, or MFTAS, automatically kicked in, illuminating their lenses with a small world of mold, peeling paint and aviary poodoo. The stairs were slick with three months of inattention. SF-4738's automatic breathing filters kicked in. He ignored them.

Mahan and VS-4276 followed him, the squad moved down the steps like krayt dragons with their teeth out. The crash and uproar of the battle outside fell away, but only marginally, and SF-4738 could tell from the heavy drilling sound below them that at least three or four abo heavy weapons were still blasting from this building. Every so often he could hear the _whoosh_ of a RPG or rocket climbing away.

Mahan held up a closed power fist to halt the platoon in the stairwell while he queried the enemy's position via the comm in his bucket. SF-4738 moved up with VS-4276 to cover the door leading to the top floor.

"This is _Cliff Wampa_ one-one to any ground element," Mahan said. "We've effected entry on Treasure Island roof. Request location of hostile elements, over."

SF-4738 couldn't hear the reply in Mahan's bucket. He watched the young officer nod his head once, twice, and then a third time.

After a fourth nod Mahan signed off. SF-4738 often wondered why, in the Imperial Army, he couldn't listen to the comm traffic of his superiors. It was common practice for troopers in the Grand Army of the Republic to listen in on their commanders during the Clone War. The few clones he had encountered had verified it. The Seps had the ability, too, probably so did the emerging rebellion back in the Home Galaxy. So in this way the Stormtrooper Corps frustratingly wasted vital time that could get his boys hurt yet again.

"Okay," Mahan said in a low voice, using the abo slang that was rapidly spreading through the ranks, "Like I said, one floor down, at least halfway along the southern face of the building we got a crew-served machine-slugthrower, something heavy and nasty, and a couple of RPG launchers, which are pinging our transports. Some prisoners would be wizard for questioning but not essential. Let's go. HF-3105, you've got the Z-6 RBC, so you've got the lead."

"And lovin' it." HF-3105 said without any real enthusiasm.

The platoon moved out behind him, sweeping the hallway in front of them as they went. SF-4738 brought up the rear, pausing and turning to cover their _shebs_ every ten meters or so. There was no indication of hostile activity on this floor, no sounds of slugfire or voices. Outside the building, though, all was murder and bedlam. They turned the corner at the end of the corridor and crept into the next hallway. Heavy turbolaser blasts had struck heavily on this side of the building and opened it up to the outside, collapsing part of the floor between this level and the one below. Small fires burned here and there and HF-3105 brought the forward squads to a halt well short of the devastation. SF-4738 could see the sky through an enormous hole that looked as though some hungry rancor had taken a bite out of the top of the structure.

A rocket-propelled grenade whooshed away into the air from somewhere below. SF-4738 heard a babble of abo-accented Basic that he lost in the roar of a heavy machine slugthrower from the same location. To his ears the Americans always sounded like a bunch of Corellian smuggler scum.

The forward squads perched silently, their blasters trained on the enormous breach. Mahan signaled to SF-4738 to ready a couple of thermal detonators and they all crept towards the opening. The thunder of battle rolled on outside, with the crump of rockets and the pounding of slugthrowers and blasters drowned out by the percussive roar of MAATs and TIE/sa bomber flybys.

The stormtrooper platoon took up position just back from the ragged edge of the collapsed floor and wide open facade, every trooper tossing his thermal detonator at a signal from Mahan. The detonation hammered at the floor underfoot like a short, spastic Ewok drum beat. When SF-4738's ear stopped ringing, he could hear nothing of the abos below.

"Clear!" called TK-2490, who had moved up to take a quick furtive look over the edge.

"Right, let's keep moving." said Mahan.

1st squad dropped into the hole as soon as the blast cleared. Several blasts rang out as troopers finished off the wounded.

SF-4738 dropped down after his troopers as Mahan continued to clear the remaining floor above them with the remainder of 3rd Platoon.

"I give up." A badly wounded abo trooper croaked out. Several troopers spun around at the sound. The near-human was half-buried under a steel beam and a pile of drywall. Blood seeped from several wounds in the earthling's torso.

TK-2490 and VS-4276 were on the enemy trooper in a heartbeat. TK-2490 smashed down on the top of the abo's helmet with his blaster rifle. The abo laughed and dropped a trio of earthling thermal detonators at the feet of the two troopers. He had metal detonator rings on three of his fingers.

Fierfek the rules of engagement, SF-4738 thought.

The blast picked him up and smashed him through the nearest wall.

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Twenty minutes after the first bolt sounded in anger inside Treasure Island, SF-4738 lifted a cigarra to his lips with a badly shaking hand.

He was exhausted. As a newly-enlisted trooper he had been involved in the slaughter on New Plympto and in putting down the uprising against the Herglics on Giju, but he couldn't recall ever being this tired any time on those far, far away worlds. But then, he had not been caught up in such dangerous close-quarter battles there.

Why didn't I stay on Teth?

He knew the answer to that. There was no future in the Outer Rim and the Empire looked like the only way off of his backrocket homeworld. But after just nearly being killed in a room-to-room lightfight with dozens of crazy, stubborn earthlings who weren't worth . . . what was HF-3105's phrase? Ah yes, dianoga poodoo in a trash compactor. A good phrase. Yes, having nearly been killed by these abo scum he did have cause to question his decision to fight for Palpatine, and now Yos. If he had stayed on Teth he would be scratching by on some agricombine somewhere instead of being blasted at by earthling fools who did not even have the decency to allow him to get close enough to stick his vibrobayonet in their gullets to settle the score.

Of course farming wasn't ever an option. He couldn't really see himself herding nerf for the remainder of his days like the cousins he had left behind. He hoped his relatives appreciated his service, though they had surely given him up for dead long ago.

Thoughts of home distracted him from the horror of the battlefield. He tried to shake the exhausting haze that was settling in his mind that followed the hyper-alert state his brain went to in every light fight. He tried to push out the images of what went wrong when he had followed 1st Squad into that gap.

When the crazy abo trooper had blown himself up, killing TK-2490 and crippling VS-4276 and very nearly doing the same to one Platoon Sergeant SF-4738. TK-2490's sudden and violent death only added shock to his bone-tiredness.

He thought about the senselessness of it all as he returned to the rooftop. He was in the process of manhandling another naked and wounded abo trooper out of the building and towards a waiting MAAT/i. He gripped the prisoner firmly on the upper arm and pushed him ahead of him.

The earthling was naked because neither SF-4738 nor Lieutenant Mahan would take his surrender without proof that he had not booby-trapped himself like his crazy_-sheb_ abo friend. On the roof two officers in stormtrooper armor, probably spooks from Fleet Intelligence, took the prisoner without comment. He was not the first naked abo they had carted off, evidently. SF-4738 gladly washed his hands of the Earth trooper and made his way back down to ground level of the casino, stepping over the guts and brains of recently departed combatants without batting an eye.

He arrived at the front lobby where 3rd Platoon had dug new fighting positions. The battle still continued further up the Strip to the north and SF-4738 expected them to move up to join it before too long.

Outside, in what must have once been a valet parking area, several sandtroopers moved about in the rubble and debris that led to the wide boulevard, sifting through it all. They appeared to be looking for mines and other nasty booby-traps the abos loved to leave behind. Sometimes the abos left funny, alternate-basic propaganda flimsis begging the troopers of the Empire to surrender.

"Find anything?" SF-4738 called out.

"Who the fierfek are you?" one of the sandtroopers asked.

"SF-4738, Platoon Sergeant, 395th Legion," he growled back. "That's who the fierfek I am, you dewback-kriffing scum. So, did you find anything?"

"No, Sergeant," The sandtrooper said, not much chastened. "Aside from some alternate-basic pornographic flyers we haven't found poodoo. Some of these crazy kriffers preferred blowing themselves up to giving it up for us. Ended up blasting most of them. Anything else, _Sergeant_?"

SF-4738 grunted and walked away. He left the sandtroopers and walked back inside, where a subdued Lieutenant Mahan was sitting atop an overturned gambling machine, pouring the contents of an apple-slug bottle into a MPET pack.

"Want some, Sarge?" Mahan asked. He set the bottle down with a badly shaking hand and started to turn the food over with a poodoo-brown spoon. "Got a Jerba cheese sandwich for once. They're getting harder to find."

"No, thank you." SF-4738 said, squatting down next to Mahan. He removed his bucket and proceeded to rub his scalp until the blood flowed again.

"Don't let that shutta bother you." Mahan said, indicating the sandtroopers. "I'm glad you've got my back."

"Yeah." SF-4738 nodded wearily. He jerked his thumb back outside. "I'm not upset by scum who'd rather be eating out the reproductive organs of a sun-dried dewback. No, I am kriffing pissed about TK-2490 and VS-4276. They were good boys."

Mahan exhaled raggedly, "Yes, they were. I only knew them since we landed dirtside but they were astral troopers. We all are, Sarge. You were a big part of that. Still are. I wouldn't be half the officer I am now without your help."

"Thanks, Sir," The veteran Sergeant said as he took a knee against the machine and felt waves of lassitude roll over him. "It can't be normal, these abos blowing themselves up along us. Reminds me of stories from the big War back in the Home Galaxy with those crazy Sepper clankers. Before the clones turned them all to molten slag."

The infantry officer gave two emphatic shakes of his head. "No way" he said. "I was right there beside you for the sweep and clear of Target East. We didn't see anything like this insanity. Didn't start up till we had occupied Los Angeles for a while and got that kriffing shield up and humming. Then the abos got desperate just like they are now. They've got to be close to surrender, at least that's what old man Seco keeps saying on the Armed Forces Hyperwave. Because Fierfek, we can't go on fighting them like this forever."

SF-4738 thought about what Mahan said. If the earthlings were so desperate that they resorted to blowing themselves up how long would it be before this world would be pacified. Could his future grandyounglings still be occupying a planet full of potential Being Bombers?

Out in the boulevard AT-ATs stomped forward. One-by-one casinos south of their position had been reported to be cleared of their American defenders. With the arrival of the lumbering walkers the earthlings had retreated further north and fortified the remaining hotels along the Strip.

Muted comm traffic squawked from the lieutenant's helmet. Mahan reached over and picked up his bucket and placed it back over his head. SF-4738 watched the officer nod several times as he received new orders. Finally Mahan rubbed a gloved hand atop his helmet in frustration before turning to his Platoon Sergeant.

"Gather up the boys, Sarge. This position is being taken over by a company of swamptroopers from 8th Brigade. We're going to push out towards the north end of this street." Mahan said.

Swamptroopers in the dessert? He knew there were units of snowtroopers within the city as well. The Martian Empire was starting to scrape the bottom of the bucket if it was throwing those types of units into this Surge offensive, he thought as he made several rapid hand motions that formed up the troopers around him. Within a few minutes 3rd Platoon as well as elements from half a dozen other platoons had formed up in the lobby as the relief filtered down from rooftop landing sites.

Without a word Mahan waved the stormtroopers forward, where they flowed out past the sandtroopers and into the wake of the passing heavy walkers on the torn and cratered Las Vegas Strip. "We're assaulting a couple of buildings ahead. The one on the left is called Circus Circus and the one further up on the right goes by the name SLS Las Vegas." Mahan finally said. The names told SF-4738 nothing, but data streamed across his HUD displaying estimated enemy strengths in both of the ruins ahead. A few thousand in each. The crack of the heavy cannons of the advancing AT-ATs filled the battlefield as TIE/sa bombers bombed the enemy positions with sticks of proton bombs.

Militia units had borne the brunt of the fighting in the city so far and although they had handed out grief here and there, as a fighting force they seemed to be tasked with holding up the Imperial Army and making the stormtroopers waste ammunition and lives. So far from their supply base in Target East the spearhead units of the Imperial Army didn't have the troopers to provide POW facilities, so without any direct order per se, the vacheads in the Fleet let it be known that there would be no quarter. Some units in the 395th Legion had taken up the Clone War's practice of flying a black flag from their walkers and vehicles. It didn't take long for the Americans to figure out what that meant and to reciprocate in kind.

As a tactic, SF-4738 had to admit that sending your worthless troops forward as bolt catchers made some sense. They were a stang stubborn species. Every stormtrooper fighting dirtside knew the abos weren't about to throw in the towel. They were here to stay. The Imperial Army just needed to keep punching and kicking them till they stayed down. The Theater Commander and the new Emperor were fools not to see that. This worthless idea of theirs that was being floated around Fleet, that the capture of the elusive American leader would end the war, was all poodoo to SF-4738.

The earthling leader, President Harris, still made recordings of propaganda appearances in the open, usually while on the move, and his words were rebroadcast across American loudspeakers from their lines at night. The messages offered stormtroopers who defected, land and the abo form of credits if they switched sides. So far, SF-4738 didn't know of any trooper that was even slightly tempted by the ridiculous offers. The city-smashing, orbital bombardment campaign continued just as it had since the start of the war, from what SF-4738 had heard a Fleet liaison officer say, with the added mission of attempting to decapitate Harris's command-and-control systems. But as long as that skinny scum survived to taunt them, his stature only grew. He openly mocked them with words of freedom and democracy, ideals that Palpatine had proven worthless and corrupting during the Clone War.

"Abos!"

The warning cry came from the lead trooper on point. It came a fraction of a second before the hammering of automatic slugthrower fire started up from what had once been the Fashion Show Mall. 3rd Platoon, veterans now of urban warfare as meat grinder, moved for cover as though every man had been jabbed with a forcepike. The stormtroopers and scout troopers were fast and flowed like mercury, pouring themselves into doorways, around stone walls and down behind piles of rubble that made wheeled and tracked vehicle movement all but impossible. A couple of squads of magtroopers with their AT-STs escort joined them as they rushed for cover.

SF-4738 moved with the younger troopers of 3rd Platoon, the instincts and experience of twelve years of combat and starship service rubbing up hard against fatigue and aging muscles. He landed next to HF-3105 and burrowed in under the protection of a massive, broken beam of concrete and rebar as small-arm slugfire zipped a decimeter overhead and chewed up the cheap building material of the street.

The fighting was simply too chaotic and disordered for him to keep track of all the troopers of 3rd Platoon. Most of them blasted back into the area of crushed rubble where the slug fire had emerged. He hadn't needed his E11 yet, for which he was grateful. Still, he flicked the selector stub from safe to semi and waited. HF-3105 let rip with two short bursts, holding his Z-6 RBC up over the cover and blasting blind. The AT-STs reacted instantly to the ambush and their chin cannons added a hum and mechanical metal-punching beat to the chaotic din of the sudden light fight. They charged through SF-4738's unit sending large bolts from their MS-4 twin blaster cannons forward without a care for nearby stormtrooper casualties. Ahead of them the AT-ATs plodded forward. SF-4738 wondered if they even noticed the battle that had broken out to their flanks and rear.

When HF-3105 came back down he lifted his bucket slightly and spit a green stream onto the asphalt, his cheeks bulging from a wad of tabac. "Fierfeking abos."

The volume of bolts going downrange was impressive and deafening, nearly drowning out the shouts of Lieutenant Mahan and SF-4738 as they started to organize a counter-ambush with the stormtroopers who were coming up from the rear to link up with them.

SF-4738 did his best to collect himself and commit as many details to memory as possible. As always the head rush of contact was exhilarating and horrifying, a glassy funnel of light and color down which you fell as soon as you realized some being was trying to take your life. SF-4738 found it harder to deal with it as a NCO than he had as a trooper, perhaps because he was older and wiser, perhaps because so many were counting on him. He couldn't shut down and get on with whatever stoopa assignment those in charge had given him. He had to make intelligent, fast decisions or his boys would pay the price. He played his part by opening his senses to the madness of battle, letting it burn its terror directly into his cortex.

He savored the taste of dust in his mouth, the gritty, choking, akk-dog poodoo-and-tangy metallic petrol flavor of it. He noted the struggle of a green, alien, bejeweled bug caught in a wad of local brightgum stuck to the side of HF-3105's boot. He tried to freeze in his memory the trooper next to him, a syrupy ambiance of body odor, stale farts, scarred plastoid, and Carababba brand chewing tabac. He studied the straight lines of the wide boulevard as it flowed uphill and away from him. He noted the brownish gray, foul-smelling stream of raw sewage and trash that flowed out of busted sewers along both sides of the roadway. Finally he took in the stormtroopers themselves, some astral and relaxed, others shaking but focused, most of them scared out of their minds.

Lieutenant Mahan took shelter behind a pockmarked stone pillar in the center of the roadway. He was on the hyperwave radio and a holomap was projecting from the tiny imagecaster in his palm. The hyperwave radio operator kept security, his E11 carbine traversing along the rooftops, looking for snipers, RPG gunners or any other abo in desperate need of a new weeping _sheb-hole_ in the middle of his forehead.

SF-4738 knew he had to move. He bent at the waist and started doing the standard blast, move, and communicate drill, ordering the troopers around the sweeping battle space of the wide boulevard like a brutal Dejarik master. Some stormtroopers would balk while others would execute on command. With some, SF-4738 calmed them with a pat on the shoulder plate and a few fatherly words the way one would handle a terrified ronto. With others, it was a boot imprint on the _shebs._

He saw a bird, swooping up and away to escape the sudden eruption of slaughter, suddenly fly apart in a spray of feathers and blood as some stray slug or bolt punched right through its frail body. The remains landed on the dusty roadway in an anticlimactic cloud of dirt. The body twitched for a few seconds as dumb electrical storms raged through its shattered nervous system.

HF-3105 saw it, too. "E chu ta, Sarge. Not safe for being or beast in this fierfeker. Can we call in some TIEs and let them kriffing torpedo this place back to the copper age?"

"I hear that." SF-4738 responded wholeheartedly. He tapped the trooper on the helmet, "Got any more dip, trooper?'

HF-3105 pulled a can from his utility belt. "Got a whole log before we left Target East. I'm almost through it all, though, so you better pull my _shebs_ out of this."

SF-4738 took the can of Carababba and nodded. "Roger, roger that, trooper."

With the dip in his mouth and the can returned to HF-3105, he tried to lock himself down in reality. It might have been three minutes or three hours before the MAAT gunships arrived overhead and announced themselves with a rush of mass driver missiles and the industrial zappity-zap-zap-zap of their chainguns. Half the block ahead of them disintegrated, quite literally flying apart under the kinetic hammer of high-velocity plasma ordnance. Blocks of concrete and steel shattered and crumbled, releasing their mass in the form of thick, powdery clouds to drift away on the warm dust storm passing over the city.

"Gunships will do," croaked HF-3105. "I feel like dancing every time they play my tune. Sing it! Sing it!"

SF-4738 stayed down, rib-farking the ground, as the blasts from the stormtroopers of 3rd Platoon tapered off. For a brief interlude silence as heavy as an old set of Phase II armor lay over them. Then he heard the crunch of boots moving across broken masonry through the ringing in his ears. The rattle of equipment as his boys moved forward. The metallic click and slide of tibanna mags being swapped out. Slowly, carefully, he raised his head over his newest cover, a slagged pile that had once been an earthling landspeeder. SF-4738 let his peripheral vision take over for a second, scanning for any sign of movement that would indicate the presence of a lingering threat. But there was nothing. The gunships had cleaned up the ambush along with however many innocents had been hiding in the ruins.

HF-3105 arrived at his side like an apparition, the muzzle of his Z-6 Repeating Blaster Cannon sweeping through a narrow arc in front of them, covering the stormtroopers who were rushing in to scope out the rubble under which their attackers had died. SF-4738 waited for calls of "Medic!"

They never came. Whatever injuries the troopers had taken did not require immediate intervention. A few single E11 blasts from the ruins told that any abo survivors found by the stormtroopers wouldn't be receiving medical attention either. He kept his personal weapon at hand but consciously dialed back on the tension compressing his whole body into an impacted mass of nerve endings. They'd survived another one. They had already received eight KIAs in their platoon since they had left Target East.

Lieutenant Mahan appeared beside him, handing back a receiver to his hyperwave radio operator. "You astral, Sarge? I don't think this fight will make the nightly HoloNews."

It was an attempt at light banter, but the young officer's voice was too tired to carry it off. _Sleep when you are dead_ had become the unofficial motto of the Stormtrooper Corps. SF-4738 lifted his helmet slightly and spit onto the ground, the tabac slowly infiltrating his wired nervous system.

"Any casualties you know of, Loot?" He asked.

Mahan shook his head.

"Nothing serious. No lost limbs or burns from that sticky petrol they use so I'll count myself a lucky being. Worthless abo National Guard farktards. Had a bunch of civilian fighters with them, too. Women and younglings from what some of the boys saw. Luckily, not too many of them were willing to blow themselves up. Sometimes I think those units blast high and wide, praying to get kriffing captured."

The crackle of slugfire mixed with blaster bolts drifted over the rooftops from somewhere to the west as another element of the 395th conducted sweep-and-clear ops of the area around the Strip. To the south Imperial artillery units were moving up to help fortify the city center. News was coming in that the encirclement of the metropolis wasn't going so well. It had slowed and even been halted in places where it had become bogged down in kilometer after kilometer of heavily defended neighborhoods. Scuttlebutt was that that was where the Americans were throwing their best troopers.

3rd Platoon started to move up again to catch up with the AT-ATs who were pounding the ruins of Circus Circus. MAAT and LAAT gunships buzzed about high overhead, waiting to pounce on any resistance. When they had entered Las Vegas the rule book got defenestrated out the airlock. SF-4738 remembered when they had taken their first KIAs in the city, before he had led the rest of 3rd Platoon towards the Strip. Somebody seemed to have handed the 395th Legion's commander, General Patreous, an open creditbook.

They formed up again with elements from several scout trooper and magtrooper platoons, picking their way forward through the rubble, stepping over tumbled walls and mounds of pulverized gray concrete. SF-4738 stepped on something soft and yielding, and before he could stop himself he glanced down and saw the tiny arm beneath his soiled boots. It ended in ragged flesh and a stump of white bone just after the elbow joint.

He spit on the ground next to the remains and whispered. "Yeah, fierfek the rules of engagement and fierfek this kriffing war as well."


	63. Loi Cas 5

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**Sanshan, Anhui Province, People's Republic of China, Earth**

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In calmer moments he could hear the crash of millions of raindrops on the river. The monsoon rains were heavy this year. The Ministry of Agriculture wasn't going to be happy, Colonel Loi Cas mused. Then he wondered if the government even had a Minister of Agriculture anymore.

The ragtag unit with which he found himself was located on a great bend of the Yangtze. To their west the river poured out of the far-away Himalayas before turning here at Sanshan and flowing north where it divided the two opposing armies with its brackish blue waters. He was in an encircled pocket to the south of the invader's lines, commanding men who had failed to retreat across the Yangtze in time.

Sheets of beating rain swept across the humid battlefield. The thunder claps in the clouds competed with the crash of both sides' artillery attempting to fill any accidental silences with their breathtaking din. Millions of men and aliens were doing their best to fill the world with all the sound that had ever been created since that first fish had crawled onto land. Yet the world felt empty to Cas.

He closed his eyes for a moment and in his mind's eye Qing and Min stared back at him, no smiles or frowns, just silently waiting. He opened his eyes again, pushing his sorrow deep down and replacing it with the familiar hate and anger that filled his waking thoughts.

Cas wished he had a cigarette. He wished he was drunk. But he hadn't seen tobacco or alcohol in days. For that matter he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

The factory roof overhead had massive, gaping holes in it that allowed a cascade of water to drench the soldiers hiding amongst its demolished machinery. In sections the roof had collapsed and enterprising infantrymen had rolled metal barrels underneath the slanted coverings and lit small fires for warmth. A howling wind outside occasionally roared through the wreckage, carrying buckets of rainwater with it.

He reached underneath his rain poncho. He hardly noticed the cool water as it trickled down his neck and back wherever the nylon pulled away from his skin. The poncho had an unusual camouflage pattern that was different from the PLA-issued ones he was used to. The soldier who had given it to him said he had taken it from a corpse with Vietnamese Army unit patches on his uniform but Cas hadn't seen any Vietnamese units around Sanshan. He had heard on the first day of the war that the little tigers of Southeast Asia would aid China against the alien-devils but this simple poncho was the only evidence he had seen so far.

"They probably got chewed up on their way north by those cursed spaceships." Cas muttered. Even if the southern Asians had arrived it was too little and too late. They would have been swept up in the grand battle that had been fought north of here that had smashed the People's Liberation Army and hurled it across the Yangtze.

Despite his best efforts Cas never made it across the great river. He had become separated from the few survivors of his last ad hoc command and pushed south past Wuhu, which was now thoroughly in the grip of the Empire.

Cas crawled forward through the collapsed ruins. His knees crushed game disks into tiny shards as he moved forward. The factory they were in had been owned by Microsoft and had produced XBOX Xs before the war. Most westerners thought of China as a land of rice paddies and rural villages thanks to kung fu flicks out of Hong Kong and Hollywood. The truth was far different. Here along the Yangtze there were hundreds of miles of factories and manufacturing plants, producing cheap goods for the West's consumers. This was where the label 'Made in China' came from.

He was surrounded by scores of infantry that were dug in the factory block which he had been left to defend. Every rubble pile hid another fire team. Some of them had buried themselves under layers of brick and wood, the barrels of their QBZ-95s sticking out from under the rubble the only sign someone was there. Cas could only make out a half dozen positions and that was only if he concentrated.

He pulled a pair of digital field glasses from his waist belt and brought them to his face. He laid one hand over the top of the lenses for protection against the downpour.

To his north the river swelled towards the tops of its banks. PLA units on the far side burned tires and debris to create a colossal wall of black, oily smoke to mask their entrenchments. The darker smoke mixed with the pinkish-gray smoke the Imperials turned out to camouflage their own efforts on the eastern bank. Both sides were fighting a losing battle against the pouring torrent that had been unleashed on the battlefield.

Because of the storm he couldn't make out much until he turned on the thermal sites on the digital optics. A few kilometers to the northeast his thermal sites picked out glowing white figures digging entrenchments around Wuhu, building great berms of mud higher and higher around the ancient river city. _Prisoners,_ he thought, forced to do the alien-devils' dirty work for them. He squinted to make out the few black shapes huddled behind their fortifications. The Imperials were harder to see because the special kind of wet suit that they wore underneath their armor smothered their heat signatures. But Cas knew what to look for. They couldn't hide from him.

Several of the white figures scattered or were flung aside as artillery rounds roared in like freight trains from Chinese positions across the river. The shells gouged huge holes in the dirt fortifications while shrapnel cut down the human shields like scythes in a field of wheat. River water rushed into the new holes in the alien line, no doubt adding more torment to the captured city.

"How can they do that, Colonel?" A voice asked from the darkness of the ruins. Cas didn't know the speaker's name and didn't bother to ask.

"Those are our people out there getting killed."

"Probably soldiers who got caught up in the rout after the destruction at Nanjing." another soldier whispered in the dark.

Cas figured the second soldier was right, though not a lot of men had survived Nanjing. "The guns are far back from the river. The artillery crews can't see what they're ordered to shell. They only know they have orders to fire on the enemy in Wuhu and they are doing that."

Cas had been a small child when the protests at Tienanmen Square had happened. He recalled how shocked his father had been when that brave man had stood in front of that column of tanks that had come to help restore order. But Cas hadn't been impressed with the man. He couldn't take his eyes off of those magnificent tanks on his family's television. Still he remembered the tank commander in the first track yelling at someone, no doubt ordering the driver to run down the fool in the road ahead of them. He learned then that no matter how much you trained a soldier you couldn't take the humanity from him. You couldn't get a lowly private to squash a fellow countryman in the road like a bug.

No, those gun crews on the other side of the Yangtze had no idea what they were shooting at, just following orders.

"I wonder whose orders they are following?" a familiar voice asked. It was Senior Private Wen, formally of a PLA artillery unit that had been shattered outside of Shanghai and then loaned to Cas as a gunner for a Korean tank they had gotten their hands on. Wen was the only other surviving crewman from Cas's last track. He thought he had lost Wen in the retreat south of Nanjing but the young soldier had found him again just before Wuhu had fallen to the enemy.

"The Party still controls the Group Armies of the western bank at least up to Anhui, beyond that . . ." Cas let his words hang in the air. The Communist Party, which had ruled China since Cas's Great Grandfather's time, had collapsed. Reports of civil war and rebellion came from every direction. There were hundreds of sad, angry stories of Chinese units turning on each other as their commanders declared their loyalties. Mass executions by the Ministry of State Security were no longer rumors but widely advertised by the _Guoanbu _in a futile attempt to maintain discipline. Those executions had been repaid when rebel units had gotten their hands on the security soldiers.

"Everyone has forgotten who the enemy is." Wen said in frustration and nodded his head towards the Imperial positions up river.

"The alien-devils didn't do us any favors by stopping at the Yangtze. With the river between the two armies all of the formerly loyal PLA officers seemed to have lost their minds now that they don't have to face the invaders directly anymore." Cas said as he focused the sites on his binoculars.

"Stupid. Didn't the aliens know there was a river there? They charged out of Shanghai with all the hell and fury of a horde of demons and crashed into the river without a plan. Now they just sit there and stare at it like it never occurred to them that they'd have to cross it."

"Perhaps it didn't occur to them. We have both seen that they are more than a match for us at the small unit level but their senior leadership seems to be lacking. Unimaginative, uninspired and willing to throw their best units straight at our guns. A river crossing would take imagination. Whoever leads them is not a very imaginative man." Cas observed.

"At least they know who leads them. When was the last time you heard from a general or the Premier, Colonel?" Wen asked.

Cas turned and glared at the implication of defeatism in Wen's question. Wen realized his impudence and issued a quick, "My apologies, sir. I meant no offense."

Without further comment Cas returned his binoculars to his eyes and continued his observation of the enemy's lines. The private's question wasn't completely out of line. Here on the southern flank command and control of the shattered remnants of PLA units was almost nonexistent. Men continued to trickle into his makeshift battle group from scores of units. He commanded men in this factory from four different divisions. It had been days since he had received anything resembling legal orders or seen a superior officer.

Besides the strange orders that came from the south, that was. A week ago, when communication with the main army became near impossible, commands and orders started trickling their way up from the south. Something calling itself the Chinese Prefecture of the Union of the Earth had set itself up on Hainan Island and had started issuing recall orders from the ruins of Hong Kong and Guangzhou. The mysterious orders claimed to have been made in the name of the American President Harris who supposedly led this Earth Union. Cas didn't know if that meant the American President was here in China or not.

Some units had disappeared over the past few days, Cas supposed they wanted to escape the destruction the Imperial Army doled out and the south was a tempting refuge.

Cas had dismissed the temptation. He didn't have the trucks to move his men and even if he did he wouldn't know where to get the fuel for them. From what he understood the civil war to the south was raging mostly over food. His own men had barely enough food to last them a few more days. If they went south he would have to order them to rob and pillage whatever civilians they came across.

The most important reason he chose not to go he kept to himself. He chose not to go south because there were no alien-devils to kill down there.

"Sir, there're boats on the water." A sniper whispered from the shattered rafters above Cas. A spotter team up there had been guarding the approaches to the north which filled the sites on their QBU-88s with the PLA's positions on the western bank.

Cas crawled through the wreckage to the northern wall. Wen followed closely on his heels. The northern wall was torn and had large holes blasted through it in several locations, most of them covered by infantry fire teams. Cas chose one that gave him the best unobstructed view of the waterway. Sure enough several craft were launching from the Chinese-held bank. Geysers of water shot into the sky as enemy energy-artillery rounds splashed down amongst the boats. The boats weaved in between the explosions as the sound of their overworked engines screamed across the waterfront.

"Hovercraft." Cas observed. "Jingash IIs by the look of them. Having a hard time against that wind out there. I can see a couple of patrol boats coming from up river. Take a look."

Wen brought his thermal optics to his eyes. "Looks like a pair of Shanghai IIs or IIIs. Somebody on the other side finally got his head out of his ass long enough to coordinate something."

"Maybe. But the devil's artillery will chew them up before they ever get within landing distance of Wuhu."

"I don't think so, Sir. Look the alien-devil's energy shells are diminishing." Wen pointed back at the hovercraft.

Cas looked. One of the assault boats was aflame and marines and sailors were abandoning it and swimming back to the western bank, but the other nine were still advancing. The blue bursts of energy that had been falling amongst the craft were moving ashore to harass PLA positions. Oddly, the assault craft that were racing to rendezvous with the patrol boats mid-river were being ignored by the alien-devils in Wuhu. The hovercraft raced along the edge of a snapped suspension bridge, its broken support towers still jutting from the rising river.

"Not like the Imps to neglect something like that." Wen observed. "They've got good spotters along the river."

Cas agreed. He had been struggling against the invaders every day for months. He knew they were competent enough fighters not to ignore such a blatant threat. "They must have something ashore. waiting for that landing."

"Should we move one or two of our anti-tank guns to the river to support them?" Wen asked. Cas's unit controlled three Type 86 anti-tank guns that they had carefully hidden in the demolished factory complex.

"The attack will be over by the time we get them into place since we have to move them by hand all the way around the Dolphin quarry." Cas sighed in resignation. Any support he gave to the landing would be at the extreme range of his guns anyway.

He looked out of his hole toward a choppy body of water just outside of the factory. It looked like a flooded parking lot and sat between the factory and the river. Years ago it had been a deep marble quarry but it had been shut down some time ago. Due to its location next to the river it had been flooded and used as a preserve for Yangtze River Dolphins, or Baiji, as they were more commonly known.

He wondered if any of the endangered animals still lived in that hole. He couldn't tell one way or another, though several sentries had reported seeing some Baiji out there a few nights ago. His daughter would have loved to hear about that. His gut kicked as he imagined her smile.

Wen shrugged, "Maybe we could run a HongJian team out there. They'd be able to reach Wuhu from that collapsed cargo pier." Wen pointed to one of their few remaining anti-tank missile teams sheltering under a collapsed concrete beam nearby.

"Or we could . . ." Cas never said what else they could do to support the men on the river because at that moment one of the hovercraft's engines roared as it was lifted clear of the water. The boat stood on its side and marines tumbled out of its forward crew compartment. Machine guns opened up from the other hovercraft in the flotilla while small cannons barked from the patrol craft. The stricken hovercraft flopped upside down with a huge splash. Its massive engines sent up a fountain of water before that same water choked them to a stop.

"What the hell?" Cas pushed himself up on his arms for a better view of the river.

"I didn't see anything hit near them." Wen was as confused as Cas.

Machine gun fire churned up the water around the boats. Cas watched in confusion as marines fired their weapons over the gunwales of the hovercrafts. A sailor tossed in a grenade that sent up a plume of muddy water when it exploded.

The small explosive was eclipsed as a gray shape suddenly breached the surface of the river. The massive shape emerged directly below one of the landing craft and broke its keel in half sending both halves crashing back into the river where they quickly disappeared from sight.

The remaining eight hovercraft opened up with their machine guns as the patrol boats circled around to bare their 37mm cannons on the object that had abruptly emerged amidst their formation.

Cas focused the lenses on the intruder. "Devil take me, that's a dragon-walker!"

"No, sir. Look it has rudders and dive planes. I'm not seeing any sort of legs on that monster."

"A dragon-swimmer?" Cas wondered aloud. "The walkers must be hampered by deep water. Otherwise, why make ones that could swim."

The beast in the river opened up with its lasers. Despite the torrential downpour two of the hovercraft quickly caught fire. A third hovercraft on the periphery of the attack was suddenly capsized as another dragon-swimmer broke the surface like a mythical leviathan from the deep.

A patrol boat revved its engines and went at it with all of its guns blazing. The ship's bow crumpled as it made contact with dragon-swimmer's stronger hull. The new dragon-swimmer swung its head like a sledgehammer at its attacker. The head caught in the ship's rigging before the alien machine opened up with its chin laser guns. The lasers bit truck-sized chunks out of the patrol boat's hull. The dragon-swimmer dove beneath the surface, pulling the wreckage of the patrol boat down with it. A moment later it resurfaced minus its entanglement and turned to attack the remaining hovercraft.

"Just as horrible as their cousins on land." Wen said.

The remaining patrol boat started rolling depth charges into the water as it charged between the two attackers. Towering columns of water shot skyward as the charges erupted. The captain of that boat was brave but he had also miscalculated and his attack shredded the inflatable bottoms of three hovercraft. Sailors on the boats jumped overboard and swam for whichever bank was closer. The two dragon-swimmers avoided the depth charges and engaged the patrol boat from a distance as it shepherded the two remaining hovercraft back to the western bank. Cas could see by the time it reached the other side it had developed a severe list and was riding very low in the water. The dragon-swimmers submerged themselves again.

It was disturbing to know they were out there, to say the least.

Between lulls in the artillery barrage they could hear cries for help from men clinging to wreckage in the river. The current was taking them down river and towards Imperial positions.

"They wreck everything we try to do." Wen had tears in his eyes.

"There was nothing we could do." Cas put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. He knew he must do everything to keep every man in the fight if they were to win. "Let's get back to where we can watch the bastards inside Wuhu. See what we can do about killing a few more of them, huh?"

Wen nodded and tried to give Cas a reassuring smile that said he was alright. "Yes, Colonel. After you."

They crawled further back into the ruins of the factory to their old position. The enemy hadn't done anything since they had been gone. Patrols went out towards factories closer to Wuhu but were brushed off by enemy pickets on the south side of the city.

Later that evening cooks brought food forward for the men. They ate meager servings of rice mixed with some kind of meat and the men argued whether it was horse or rabbit. The soldiers who favored the horse argument won out in the end when someone decided that PLA chemical attacks during the retreat would have killed off all the rabbits in the area. Cas wondered why none of his men argued that the gas would have done the same to army horses but held his tongue.

Cas slept fitfully that night. His dreams were of Qing and Min. Fiery dreams of them aboard a hovercraft that was being capsized by a dragon-swimmer while he stood helplessly ashore.

He was awoken several times during the night by enemy artillery. They knew Sanshan was occupied and the enemy continued to bombard it mainly to deny the soldiers of the PLA any rest. Someone brought a battery of Type 90 122mm truck-mounted rocket launchers into the city and paid the aliens back in kind. A short artillery duel broke out after that, which lasted until dawn.

He hadn't realized he had fallen back asleep until Wen gently shook him awake. "Colonel, there're a few dragon-walkers in the enemy's positions."

Cas sat up. "How many?"

"Three so far."

"Three? Not a platoon then. Have they done anything?" Cas asked. He had studied the dragon-walkers in the most punishing classroom man had ever entered. He knew they operated in groups of twelve. Sometimes they would break into smaller squads of three or four when they were patrolling or guarding something. If it had been twelve he would have been worried about facing a major attack. Just three indicated that the enemy was still content to stay in Wuhu and let their laser guns command the great river bend.

"They just came up a few minutes ago. So far they have just taken up an over watch position inside the ruins around the WIT." Wen reported. The wreckage at the Wuhu Institute of Technology had been turned into a formidable bastion in the alien's lines and was only about four miles from their current position.

"A patrol then. They wouldn't be fortifying that place. Damn if I know if there's anything of value to protect inside the WIT. The devil knows we aren't going to try to take it back anytime today." Cas stretched. He could still taste the horse from last night's dinner. "Get the men ready. If they come close we may have to shift positions."

"Yes, Sir." Wen saluted and started to turn.

"Private," Cas called after him. Wen stopped. "Do we have any coffee or tea? I'll even chew on some grounds if we have some." Cas was feeling all of his thirty-nine years this morning. War was a young man's business.

"I've got something better, Colonel." Wen reached into his pants cargo pocket and pulled out a silver and blue can and handed it to his commander. "Red Bull. One of the foraging teams found it last night. It's all the breakfast I can offer this morning."

"It's better than I expected, Senior Private. I ought to promote you to lieutenant on the spot if it wouldn't be a complete waste of a damn fine enlisted man. Care to share it with me?" Cas popped the top of the can. He took a big swig and held it back to Wen.

"I'd be honored, Sir, but the stuff tastes like alien-devil piss." Wen tossed the can back and took a swig.

"I'll have to trust you on that, as you seem to have experience in that field." Cas smiled. Wen laughed at his commander's joke. It had been a long time since he had seen Cas smile about anything. A couple of gulps and the can was empty. He felt the sugar and caffeine surge through his system with a couple of warm trembles in his arms.

Cas's face became cold and serious a second later. "Show me the dragon-walkers."

They crouched and moved from one piece of cover to another until they were back at their original observation post. Dozens of infantry men stirred in the wreckage around them. The rain hadn't abated in the slightest from the day before and water still poured freely from the shattered rafters.

One of the alien machines was already in front of the alien lines and moving forward. The other two were moving slowly through the top of WIT bastion with the slow grinding pace Cas recognized. They weren't in a hurry this morning, just coming out of their own lines to have a look around.

Cas studied them with his thermal optics. He watched as numbers on the range finder slowly diminished with each thudding step forward. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed ripples flowing across nearby puddles inside the factory following each mechanical step.

"Three Ay-Tee-Ay-Tees." Wen said.

"They are becoming overconfident. I don't see any of those chicken-walkers scouting for them." Cas observed

"Nor infantry. Though they could be carrying them aboard. Coming straight at us too."

"Not a lot of imagination at the top, like I said yesterday. Do you see any unit markings?" Cas asked.

"None that I can spot. The rain is making it difficult to make anything out. We know Pig, Monkey, and Horse platoons are near Wuhu. Could be any one of them." Wen observed casually.

Cas had been insulted when he had learned the alien-devils had named their platoons of dragon-walkers after signs from Chinese Astrology. Several of the alien units had taken to painting the sides of their cockpits with depictions of the animals. It had become obvious the alien-devils weren't familiar with animals such as tigers, horses, or pigs due to some of the atrocious things they had sketched on the sides of their machines. Cas recalled spotting a sort of laughing lizard-like monkey on one of the dragon-walkers when they had first fallen back from Shanghai. He had spotted the same monkey icon on several walkers in the last few days.

Cas studied the approaching behemoths, watching for any sign of a chink in their seemingly invincible armor. He remembered the chaotic defense and retreat from the Huangpu River during the first day of the war when his old tank had been able to penetrate one of the dragon-walker's necks. At least he had thought he had seen sunlight shining through both sides of the tunnel that connected the machine's cockpit to its hull.

He suddenly straightened up in shock. One of the dragon-walkers appeared to have a patch of lighter-colored armor midway down its neck. Was this his old foe from the Huangpu, he wondered?

He glanced at the other two beasts and noted that their tunnels were scratched and scarred but otherwise intact. Then his gaze traveled down towards their legs. He had a theory that if he could get a helicopter to wrap them up with a steel cable they would become entangled and cause the beast to trip over. But he couldn't remember the last time he had seen a helicopter along the front.

"An ultralight probably would work better anyways." He said to himself.

"Sir?" Wen asked.

Cas ignored the question. "Go get the sapper teams. Tell them to bring as many satchel charges as they can carry forward. We're going to try for one of their feet as they pass by." The dragon-walkers had an embarrassingly limited field of fire and if they made the mistake of leaving their infantry behind Cas would take advantage of their weakness.

"Yes, sir." Wen crawled backwards on all fours until he was deeper into the video game factory. Once he was far enough back inside he stood bent over at the waist and ran deeper into the manufacturing complex.

Sanshan was quiet. Dozens of units just like Cas's hunkered down in scores of factories and watched the plodding approach of the three machines. The sound of distant artillery filled the battlefield with its near constant soundtrack to the war.

Men in the forward observation posts started falling back. Cas watched a machine gun team jog back past the factory, carrying their weapons. The team splashed through knee deep puddles. One man fell into an unseen crater and vanished but his comrades were able to help him back to his feet a moment later. They didn't look like they were panicking yet. Cas knew few soldiers who were able to stand and fight when they felt the ground shake beneath the dragon-walker's armored feet and saw the giant, eerily organic-looking machine close on their positions.

"Police those men up." Cas ordered and soldiers started waving and shouting at the retreating scouts to join their position.

Cas knew his men were afraid. Somewhere deep down he knew he was afraid too. But the approach of the machines also brought an eagerness. An opportunity. This might be his chance to collect the head of a dragon and make his ancestors proud.

Then some fool in the mechanical pencil factory a half kilometer to the east of Cas's position broke the silence. An anti-tank missile rushed across the battlefield. It was too far away for Cas to make out the guidance cable trailing behind it. The missile hugged the ground until it was a hundred meters from the lead dragon-walker. Then it climbed for altitude and impacted the beast's cockpit. The lead machine pitched its head to the left as if it were a boxer taking an opponent's right hook.

It recovered from the blow almost instantly and swung its head back in the direction of the pencil factory. It studied the Chinese position for a second before unleashing two powerful laser bolts from its heavier chin cannons. The twin red blurs of energy slammed into the nearby complex with a colossal punch and impacted a hidden reserve of flammable grease or fuel oil. The resulting explosion caused a shockwave that was visible as it passed through the downpour and was close enough to Cas to make his teeth chatter. Debris crashed down on his position and the cratered street in front of him was suddenly covered in hundreds of mechanical pencils piercing the mud as if it were a dart board.

In the XBox factory several soldiers around him shouted as they were hit by shrapnel and pencils. Most of the wounds would be superficial, Cas hoped. His unit's medical supplies had diminished to almost nothing over the course of the retreat and he didn't expect more to come forward.

The three beasts started firing into Sanshan indiscriminately, plowing laser after laser into the wrecked city. Cas knew they would have to endure the probing attack. He cursed the missile team that had opened up too early as he was sure the dragon-walkers would have held off their barrage until they had reached Sanshan if everything had stayed quiet. To engage an Ay-Tee-Ay-Tee head on was a mistake the soldiers who had occupied the pencil factory paid for with their lives. The heaviest guns he knew of inside Sanshan were the three anti-tank guns and they would be no more than an annoying door knocker on the frontal armor of the alien machines.

Wen came forward at the head of the sapper teams, who spread out and took positions along the factory's loading bay wall near where they assumed the dragon-walkers would stride by. "They're dropping white-heads." Wen said as he reexamined the alien-devils.

Cas raised his optics to his eyes. Sure enough the dragon-walkers were lowering men to the ground. The alien soldiers flopped to the ground when they disconnected from their repel cables before advancing with the Ay-Tee-Ay-Tees in rushes from one piece of cover to the next. Cas swore to himself. He would have preferred that the enemy kept its infantry buttoned up in this fight. Killing one of the dragon-walkers while it was guarded by its own soldiers would make things that much harder.

A retreating PLA soldier was sprinting towards Cas's position when a blast from one of the dragon walker's ear cannons struck his neck. It severed his helmet, cut head from body and, in the gray gloom of the downpour, the spray of blood was extraordinarily bright, like ruby drops given extra brilliance by the rain-diffused sunlight that filtered through the monsoon clouds. A jet of blood spurted upwards and appeared to lift the head, which turned so that the soldier seemed to be staring reproachfully at Cas.

Wen gave a small cry of terror then involuntarily bent double and vomited on Cas's boots. The head, soaked in blood, thumped to the earth and rolled the last few meters to the wall of the factory. Another blast tore into the building's second story. Birds shrieked from somewhere. A private fired his assault rifle at the distant alien-devils as they came forward out of the rain.

"Hold your fire!" Cas shouted at the man. "Hold your fire! Wait till they're right in front of the building." His mouth tasted sour and his right hand was twitching. There was blood on his rain gear and vomit on his boots. The decapitated body outside was shuddering but at last went still in the mud in front of him.

Another blast tore into the rear wall of the factory and slivers of concrete and steel spattered Cas's men like the devil's hail. He hesitated he didn't want to die or be wounded before he had a chance to succeed in his mission. But instead of debilitating fear Cas felt a rising exhilaration. _Let the bastards come_, he thought, and then realized his self-examination was so consuming him that he was crouching in silent absorption while his men looked to him for reassurance.

"There's going to be noise and smoke and confusion. There will be blood and screams. There will be chaos and uncertainty. So fix bayonets! You're not going to beat these alien bastards bullet to laser, but sharp steel will scare the shit out of them. Fix bayonets and charge straight at the alien-devils. Keep them off the sappers. Shout as you charge and, believe me, they will run." He paused, his hard eyes looking at each of the soldiers he could spot nearby who, in turn, nodded enthusiastic agreement. "Use sharp steel and blunt courage," Cas growled, "And we will win." He said the last four words slowly, distinctly, and with a grim emphasis.

He turned back to his hole in the wall and located the three walkers. Their infantry was staying close the machines and had occupied the collapsed apartment tower a kilometer to Cas's front. Flickers of laser fire mingled with tracer fire as forward units were forced backwards into the city. The dragon-walkers continued to sweep their heads back and forth and pour haphazard fire into Sanshan.

The center machine suddenly stopped at the end of the road near the apartment complex while its two sisters advanced on its flanks. Cas smiled. They would be forced to travel down both sides of the video game factory and while they did so they would be isolated from each other with only the center dragon-walker able to give distant covering fire to whichever of the flanking machines was in danger. Cas would have to watch closely to decide which of the dragon-walkers to concentrate his sapper teams on.

"I wonder why they didn't send out their scouts on those flying motorcycles of theirs first?" Wen asked.

"Shhh." Cas waved his hand in a downward motion towards the Senior Private. His focus was completely on the dragon-walkers now and if he wasn't wrong one of them was making a mistake.

The one on his right stopped at the edge of a coal processing plant a few blocks away and was attempting to knock over some of the energy plant's smokestacks. Cas knew other units had positioned forward artillery spotters on those towers and wondered if those men had made it down in time as one tower after another collapsed. The center Ay-Tee-Ay-Tee remained in position covering its sisters but the one on the left, nearest to the river, was still advancing.

It was outpacing its infantry escort as well. Cas could see that most of them had halted at a derelict shoe factory and were attempting to burn the leather stores that had been abandoned by its workers. But the alien-devils were having a hard time of it with the monsoon's rains hammering them. A few of them were equipped with flamethrowers which flashed brightly through the downpour. Cas wasn't sure but he could only see a handful of enemy soldiers jogging along with the machine, all of them travelling along a path that would take it within close proximity of the video game factory in a few moments.

Cas made a series of hand signals ordering complete silence from his men and ordering the sappers and a sizable escort of infantrymen to the northern wall. He worried that one careless soldier could alert the approaching aliens with his movement. He continued to glance out into the rain at the aliens who kept close to the massive dragon-walker. They were professionals and flitted from one piece of cover to the next but none of them seemed to react to any sort of danger in the factory ahead of them.

The dragon-walker paused in front of the factory before turning and making its way towards the river bank. Its massive foot-pads tore huge clumps of mud from the street outside as the beast splashed forward. Along the northern wall of the factory the street was flooded with water up to the depth of a man's thighs. The alien soldiers started to fall behind once they encountered the deeper water. One of them, a NCO Cas guessed, yelled at the struggling soldiers to sacrifice their cover to keep up with the lumbering dragon-walker. Cas made a quick count. Only eight of them were attempting to escort the machine forward.

Cas had almost thirty infantry escorting his sappers. _That should be enough_, he hoped. They should be able to overpower the enemy infantry or at least give the sappers long enough to set their charges on the foot of the dragon-walker. If they were lucky they'd knock the beast over and be able to get at the neck. Cas's heart started pumping faster in anticipation.

The dragon-walker was completely between the factory and the Yangtze now. The alien-devils were fifty meters behind it and about a hundred meters from Cas's men. He had a whistle, which he pulled from his pocket. He placed it between his lips and got ready to blow. The men around him shuffled nervously.

Suddenly there was a giant, howling groan across the battlefield. Booming pops like cannons came from the towering walker's leg joints, and Cas looked upwards in disbelief. The unstoppable dragon-walker was slowly pitching forward. Its forward footpads were submerging out of sight. The forward left leg pulled upwards with a giant splash and appeared to be frantically trying to back pedal but couldn't gain any sort of traction.

The dolphin-quarry.

With the flooded ground the drivers of the dragon-walker hadn't been able to detect the gaping hole that lay under the water and had stumbled directly into it. Cas watched as the Ay-Tee-Ay-Tee lost its battle with gravity and flopped forward. Its head disappeared in a gigantic splash. The hull slammed down of the lip of the quarry with an impact the shook soldiers inside the factory off of their feet. The body rolled to its side as the machine's forward motion dragged its rear legs into the quarry.

The alien-devils who had been following in the walker's wake shuffled to a halt. Cas was sure the look underneath their helmets had to be one of shock.

More noise from the quarry drew his attention. The dragon-walker was trying to find its footing in the water and its head cleared the surface of the quarry as its crew fought to extricate the machine from its predicament.

Cas blew the whistle as loud as he could. "Kill them all! Use your bayonets and kill them all!" He shouted as he jumped to his knees.

His soldiers swarmed out of the factory by whatever opening they could find. They screamed as they ran, howling like the devil's own relations as they charged the enemy. Near thirty Chinese soldiers followed Cas out onto the water-filled plain.

The enemy was surprised. Two of them tripped over each other and splashed into the water as they tried to flee from the sudden attack. A few more were bowled over as machine gun fire from the factory tore into them. But Cas knew his men would have to get on top of them to finish them off.

The enemy sergeant turned and yelled something in electronically enhanced English at his men. Cas cursed the cold water as it flowed over his knees. It had helped to slow the enemy's soldiers but also greatly slowed the advance of Cas's men. Rain water stung his eyes as the wind blew into them from the river. The first laser bullet zipped past, going wide and sizzling to an end in the water behind him.

"Sappers, into the quarry! Go for the neck!" Cas shouted his orders above the storm and battle. "The neck is the weak part!"

In the blink of an eye a red flash of light the length of a telephone pole zipped through his charge from the northwest. It hit a sapper in the chest, flash frying ribs, blood and flesh in an explosion of butchery, and plunged on, trailing blood behind in its passage, to rip an infantryman in the groin. As more blood and meat sprayed into the air, the bolt deflected off something underneath the water, ricocheted, and decapitated another of Cas's sappers before vanishing noiselessly over the city to the west.

A splinter of rib hit Cas on the shoulder and a stringy splat of warm, bloody flesh spattered wetly across his face. He turned to the northwest and saw the center dragon-walker turn in their direction and open fire. It had seen the danger its stricken sister was in and was rushing to the rescue. It unleashed a second bolt that hit a submerged stump with such violence that the stump was half-uprooted as it shattered into scraps that swept into Cas's charge like a scythe. An infantryman's scream was cut off as he collapsed into water that turned red around his corpse.

Twenty yards to the enemy soldiers only three of whom were still standing. Wen rushed ahead of the attack but a moment later the Senior Private staggered in his step. A laser bullet had slashed through his cheekbone. The flesh dangled over his helmet's strap and Cas could see Wen's teeth through the ragged wound but the former artilleryman shook it off and kept charging.

Wen bore down on the alien NCO and opened fire with his assault rifle from only a few meters away. A round took the alien under the chin. It bored up through the alien's mouth and out of his skull, lifting his helmet completely off and into the air. The shock wave of the bullet, compressed by the skull, drove an eye from its socket. Blood misted, blurring an almost human face red in fine droplets as the alien-devil fell forward toward Wen. The ray gun dropped and the alien's dead arms wrapped themselves around Wen's waist before the corpse slid slowly into the water.

Something excruciatingly hot burned into his right thigh and Cas staggered. Some part of his mind was aware that he was in pain but his eyes hardly wavered from the thrashing dragon-walker in the quarry.

Somehow it had managed to turn itself back the way it had come. Evidently the water was shallow enough for its feet to find purchase on the bottom while the uppermost part of its hull and cockpit stayed above the water. He wondered if it was waterproof or if it was even now filling with muddy river water. Cas wasn't going to let it break free.

The faces of Qing and Min filled his vision, momentarily cutting out the chaos of the battle. He began to run again.

Then he blinked and it was as if the noise of the world suddenly shut off. His men were amongst the alien-devils. A sapper fired a shotgun into the back of an alien trying to swim away just before a large bolt hit the Chinese soldier in the chest. An alien dropped a string of grenades as an infantryman shoved his bayonet to its hilt in the alien's armpit. The resulting explosion turned both combatants into a pink cloud that Cas surged through. Man and alien died together in that swirling, splashing struggle on the edge of the quarry. Cas ignored it all.

A sapper's corpse floated in the water ahead of Cas. Three satchel charges were wrapped around his back and shoulders. Cas dropped his weapon and frantically tore at the straps that held the shaped charges to the demolition man.

He freed two of the satchels before the body sunk beneath the water. Two should be enough, he thought.

Laser fire came from the northwest and somewhere deep down he was aware that the rest of the alien-devils were rushing from the shoe factory. His men would have to hold them off for another minute. If they didn't they would all die for nothing. He threw the charges over his back and dove into the water.

He tried to stay submerged as long as he could. His lungs burned as he kicked forward. His helmet and boots threatened to drown him. He ignored his frustration as he realized his wounded leg was understrength. He sensed warm blood flowing from his wound and out into the cold water of the quarry.

Only a little further, he swore to himself, for Qing and Min, and his leg found the strength to keep kicking.

Something big was moving in the water ahead of him. He realized that the dragon-walker had probably moved since he had entered the water and he had no idea where he would make contact. He wanted to get at the neck but had an idea that the underbelly was vulnerable to a shaped charge also. There was a slight reddish glow to the water ahead of him and he suddenly recognized the familiar sound of a dragon-walker's chin guns.

He kicked with all his might and surged through a cloud of silt that was warm from the beast's cannons. Encouraged, he swam at full force into something hard and metallic. As his lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen the object ahead of him started to rise. Something slid up from beneath him and he grasped it in desperation, wrapping his arm around it as it lifted him from the water.

He quickly gained his bearings and was surprised to find himself dangling from one of the beast's chin guns. The machine was able to get enough clearance out of the water to dip him up and down on the surface. He wasted no time and gasped for air as he swung his good leg up and wrapped it around the base of the laser cannon just before the dragon-walker slammed its head back down. Once he was submerged again he quickly felt along the face of the beast trying to discern the location of the other chin cannon. He could just feel it out of reach as the head raised again.

The inertia flung him higher onto the cockpit and he desperately grabbed the first handhold he could find. He pulled himself up and found himself face-to-face with the giant red eye of the beast. From this close he could see past the red light and into the machine's control room. Two armored alien-devils motioned angrily at him from their side of the thick cockpit glass. Another man in a gray uniform stood behind the two helmeted aliens and seemed to be shouting frantic orders. A small hologram of another man spun around and faced him from the machine's control console. The little blue figure's mouth made a small 'O' of surprise.

He found a foothold and pushed upwards just as one of the alien-devils jerked a set of controls to the left, then to the right. The cockpit swung back and forth in a desperate attempt to dislodge him. But Cas would never let go, not with the head of a dragon in his grasp.

One hand after another he slowly pulled himself atop the cockpit. Above the wind he heard a metallic slam and looked up. A crewman had opened a hatch on the dragon-walkers hull and was pushing himself up and out of the beast's back. The alien wasn't armored like the drivers in the cockpit but instead wore a gray uniform with an open faced helmet. It wore a dark, shaded visor over its eyes and sneered at Cas as it tried to find its footing. When it had balanced itself it pulled a small black ray gun from its holster.

Cas frantically reached for his own sidearm with a free hand but found his holster emptied. His pistol must have fallen out when he dove into the water. "No!" he shouted, enraged that he had come so close.

The alien hesitated for a moment as it heard Cas's unfamiliar words. The momentary hesitation was all it took for red blossoms of blood to erupt from the alien devil's chest. The enemy soldier's ribcage exploded as it collapsed to the top of the hull before lifelessly sliding off the side into the quarry.

Cas turned his head back to the quarry's edge. Only a few of his men still stood and traded shots with the approaching enemy soldiers. Cas couldn't see who had fired at the alien given him precious time to attempt his mission. Perhaps it had been a sniper team back at the factory. Cas didn't know and he didn't have time to figure it out, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Cas used the last of his strength to pull himself to the back of the cockpit so that the neck was stretched out before him. As it moved back and forth the curtains of metal folded on each other like an accordion. If he crawled out on top of the neck his feet and hands or whatever else he stuck between those folds would be crushed whenever the head moved.

He would have to plant the explosives here at the base of the cockpit. He reached down underneath the joint and found there was a small space along the circular junction. The joint was wet and covered in some kind of alien grease. He pulled the first satchel charge off his shoulder and placed it atop the joint. The bag immediately started to fall to the left side of the neck and Cas grasped it immediately, scared he had almost lost the explosive over the side.

He was sprawled across the top of the head when two of the large laser bolts slammed into the hull near the far neck junction. The onrushing center walker was firing on its own sister to get at him and the impact was enough to toss Cas up into the air and bounce him off the hard metal of the cockpit. He felt his nose break as it made contact with the beast's armor. He lost his grip on the satchel charge as he fell over the side and back into the freezing water.

He reemerged a second later, spitting up muddy water from the overflowing Yangtze. He had lost the bag but he was able to reach up with one hand and get it between two of the metal folds on the neck tunnel. Just then the dragon-walker turned its head to the left and crushed his hand, pinning him to the neck juncture. He reflectively howled from the sudden pain but didn't allow it to tear him from his focus.

The second satchel charge was still strapped across Cas's chest and couldn't be removed without two free hands. He took a deep breath. The dragon-walker he was pinned to had found its footing and was pulling itself free from the quarry. A moment later Cas was meters above the water and dangling from the side of the Ay-Tee-Ay-Tee's neck.

He was dimly aware the fall would kill him, just as he was dimly aware of the pain from his multiple wounds. Yet there was nowhere else on Earth he'd rather be. There was no pain that could not be overcome. There was no fear.

He pulled the pin on the shaped charge.

He swung his legs up and placed his belly as close to the neck as he could. He no longer saw the harsh gray metal before him. The only things he saw were the faces of Qing and Min.

They were smiling.

There was a flash of red and then blackness and then Loi Cas found out if the head of a dragon was enough.


	64. Jason 5

**Brakatak Homestead, Malastare Heights, residential suburb of Culter City, Imperial Mars**

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Jason was in heaven. Actually, at the moment he was in the homestead's circular landing bay, but for a SciFi geek like him it was the closest equivalent. The castaway Earthling was covered in grease and happily using an amazing device called a Fast Turn-3 Hydrospanner to adjust the fasteners on the newly customized Isu-Sim SSPO5 hyperdrive that he was helping Rana, Erw and Raf reinstall aboard the _Agen's Light_.

"It'll give her a .05 hyperdrive rating by the time we're done." Erw said in his squeaky voice from the port side engineering bay. "She'll be the fastest ship in the system."

"In the galaxy." Raf corrected his friend. The other Utai was lying next to Jason across the top deck and was fastening the connectors across from Jason's. "That's if BoSS doesn't find out what we've got 'underneath the hood' of this thing." The short, pink alien used a term he had stolen from Jason, which the Earthling found ironically humerous.

"I'd thank both of you not to go running your traps either." Rana warned from the hanger floor below. "We've got enough illegal systems on her now that it would be quicker for BoSS to list her legal components if they ever impounded her."

Jason watched as the Duro pilot ran a loving hand over the durasteel armored plates along the ship's dorsal hull. Obviously Jason wasn't the only one who saw the ship as a miracle. It was a million times cooler than the starships he had dreamed of as a boy watching old reruns of Star Trek and not just because he had helped keep her ship shape by pouring his own blood, sweat and tears into her repairs.

He couldn't help but smile. Here he was, an MIT underclassman, tinkering with an actual, working FTL drive. His heroes, Einstein and Hawkin, must be spinning in their graves with envy.

Erw and Raf had spent countless hours with him explaining the starship's inner workings and the theory and application of the physics behind the _Agen's Light's_ propulsion system. If he ever made it back to Earth he'd easily plaster the walls of his parent's home with Noble Prizes and science accolades from the knowledge he had picked up on Mars.

Jason felt a momentary stab of anger. He had seen with his own eyes the massive labor camps filled with hundreds of thousands of his fellow Earthlings being driven past their breaking points as they were forced to build the monumental Martian Tower Hypermatter Production Facility on the opposite side of the planet. He'd never forget the sight of the growing tower being erected at a murderous pace as fallen slaves were carted away by the truck loads.

Evidently the tower was functional now and the fuel that ran the powerful hyperdrives, called hypermatter, was just now becoming available to the star-going Imperial Navy vessels around Mars. The local HoloNews trumpeted the achievement on its news channels every chance they got. Its output was now going to fill the hypermatter annihilators aboard the vessels that were currently engaged in the war to destroy his home world.

Memories of home made him momentarily turn away from Raf, lest his new friend wonder why he was suddenly tearing up. He tried to push aside thoughts of Fenway and the Boston Commons, or of MIT's campus and the home he had shared with his family in the Beacon Hill neighborhood. He remembered what that Star Destroyer had done to Honolulu where he had been captured, and had heard from slaves in the camp that the same thing had befallen Boston. In the last moments before the war he had learned that his family was evacuating the New England metropolis but that had been months ago. He had learned nothing of their fate since then.

He tried to bury the uncomfortable thoughts with the work in front of him. Math and mechanics had always been a refuge for him, as soothing as his Playstation 4 games had been when he was a child. Lucky for him hyperspace was a fascinating distraction. Even the Imperials didn't completely understand what it was and every member of the crew had a different theory. It was alternately described as a parallel universe, an extra dimension of space, an alternate mode of physical existence, or simply the universe as viewed when one was traveling faster than the speed of light. Each theory was a fascinating enigma for him.

His other fascinating mystery and the main source of his happiness lay across the hanger bay from him. Like a whirling dervish Ashla Ti, Knight of the Jedi Order, was a blur of red mixed with flashes of bright blue and green as she went through the motions of her intense lightsaber training. She had names for every motion she performed and almost all of which went right over Jason's head. The hum of her weapons reminded Jason of the Doppler shift of a moving microphone in front of an old television set. He had been originally memorized by the flashy laser swords but the first time Ashla had permitted him to hold one he had almost cut of his own hand and nearly gutted his friend Frip.

Ashla paused and blew him a kiss, as she often did when no one was looking. Her fangs gave her an alluring, off-world grin. Kissing was still an amazing thing to her and lovemaking left her at a complete loss for words. But then again it did the same to Jason.

While he still couldn't understand what she saw in him, Jason couldn't begin to list the things he liked about the beautiful Togruta. And to think she had wanted nothing to do with him at first. It had to do with the unnatural way he felt in the mysterious life-energy called The Force that Ashla and those like her could detect. Evidently being able to do so made her automatically part of an ancient religion that predated civilization on Earth by a score of millennium. He wasn't sure what to make of all of it yet, but Ashla was helping him understand. Evidently when she had first met him she had a lifetime ban on forming attachments, believing they would distract her from her focus on her training and lead her down a path to the bad side of her religion. Then she told him she had been visited by a ghost of her dead Master and he had told her that she must reform their destroyed sect, and since they were in a new galaxy they must find a way to become a new kind of Jedi.

Jason wasn't making any of that up, no matter how far-fetched it seemed. If he had a girlfriend back on Earth who talked to ghosts she would have been called crazy and put in the psychiatric ward or given her own talk show on the SyFy Channel. Then again if he had told people he was dating a red and white-striped alien with tentacles for hair and who could control things with her mind they would have locked him up in Area 51 and thrown away the key.

The rest of the crew took Ashla's conversing with dead people in stride. Jedi's were an odd bunch even to the mix of aliens that made up the pirate crew but they were much more accustomed to Ashla's ways than Jason ever thought he could be.

The crew was relaxed today. Brakatak was in the city somewhere, trying to locate some pre-sale hypermatter while at the same time trying to drum up some business for either his Earth-Spice or his pirate-protection racket. Frip was outside the homestead tending to the newly sprouted cocoa and cannabis plants the crew was going to use to start their spice-processing business. Jason had been uneasy at first about unleashing cocaine on an unprepared society but the big Gran had convinced him that beings from the Home Galaxy had been dealing with a galactic spice-trade since before the time when Jason's ancestors were scribbling on cave walls. And so Jason's mind was eased

"Just a stang bunch of Imp propaganda." A female voice complained from underneath the _Agen's Light_. Beneath him the two Firrerreo girls, Ashlei and Keatly, lounged on a large, plush couch covered in some kind of white fur that had been once been attached to an animal called a wampa. "Nobody loves the shinies that much. Hey Bogan, get your cute _shebs_ down here and check this out."

"As you wish." Jason said. He swung off the side of the Corellian freighter and dropped to the hanger deck. Rana and the Utais continued their tinkering on the starship without him. "What's going on, ladies?" The two girls giggled. The term Lady was usually only reserved for nobility here on Mars.

Keatly had been engrossed in her work on the datapad in her lap and had hardly glanced up when he landed in front of them. The yellow and blue holograms that were projected around her from the device, as well as the thing's gestural interface, were generations ahead of their counterparts on Earth. Jason was astonished by Keatly. She was the crew's slicer. And from what he could gather she was really good at her job. She had even forged a completely fake identification for Jason that allowed him to pass through Imperial security checks whenever the crew visited the city. Due to his accent, which he had never realized he had before coming to Mars, she had made him a Corellian trader who had lost his ship before the 'big jump' and had joined up with Brakatak's crew as an extra spacer. He was an Imperial citizen of Mars in all but name now. Jason didn't miss the irony. Back on Earth she would have been vilified as a hacker or cyber-terrorist but here in the Empire Frip had told Jason that her skills were respected and sought out by not just the criminal underworld but by mega-corporations and government agencies alike.

"What are you doing, checking your _Facebook_? Do you have something to Tweet?" Jason joked. They had social networks here in the Empire but they were a mere shadow of what they were on Earth and mainly organized along specie lines. People on Mars generally avoided social networks like the plague or derided them as toys for the slow-witted. The idea of constantly checking yourself into locations was thought of as a great way to get yourself arrested. After years of living under the ISB of the Empire and the Security Bureau of the Old Republic the general consensus was that the only ones who benefited from knowing everything about a citizen were the Emperor's inquisitors.

Keatly snorted at the absurdity of his joke. She looked up at him and gave him a shake of her head. Her nictating eyelids blinked up and down and then left and right.

Ashlei had been the one who had called him down from the ship. She was watching the Culter City News Network on the hanger bay's holoimager. Little blue figures of the Imperial soldiers that had captured him in Hawaii raised their arms in triumph next to soldiers wearing what appeared to be some type of European battle dress uniform. Most residents of the Empire thought of the HoloNet as nothing more than Imperial propaganda. They all told tales of how much freer and independent it had been in the Old Republic. Jason hadn't noticed much of a difference between it and Fox News or MSNBC back home.

Writing in Aurebesh scrolled across the bottom of the image. Jason was slowly learning the language and sounded out the words as he read.

"Three weeks after," he quickly converted the Imperial five-day weeks to Earth's seven-day weeks in his head, "Moff William V invited Imperial Legions to help protect the newly formed United Protectorate, English and Imperial forces have accepted the surrender of the last fighting forces on the island nation of Ireland."

Jason only had a second for those words to sink in before the words scrolled out of the holoimage. "Rebel attacks in the area of Scotland have diminished to harassment activities of brave English Guard units that are striving to bring an end to the civil war that has broken out in their country over the past few weeks. Moff William V has assured Theater Commander Seco that the rebellion in his country should be contained in the next few days. The Empire continues to give support to its allies in the form of food and materials and orbital strikes coordinated with dirtside commanders, as well as alleviating the United Protectorate's immigration surplus."

"Well that's a load of poodoo." Jason exclaimed when he had finished reading. "The British used to be our greatest allies, especially in the World Wars. But now they're following a king again? And invading Ireland? And fighting a civil war?" Questions raced through his troubled mind. How much has Earth changed since I've been gone? What could I have done to help? Can I ever go back?

"You know just how Yos and our boys-in-white are alleviating that immigration surplus too, don't you?" Ashlei asked.

Jason's mind didn't have to work very hard for the answer. He remembered Concentration Camp 1138 well enough to figure out just which barracks those newcomers would probably be heading for. He wanted so badly to be able to help them but he had seen the Empire from the inside now. What could he do when there were millions of them against him?

"Any news of the North American Union?"

"That's the one you're from right? The one filled with near-humans that all sound like they just stepped off the shuttle from Corenet City?" Ashlei asked.

"Yep, the news calls it Target East, or the lesser continental mass" Jason had found the Imperial naming system confusing until he had figured out how the target cities must have looked from space to the Imperial Navy. They would have had no concept of Earth's eastern and western civilizations. To them it would have been what Brakatak called Core thinking as opposed to Rim thought.

"Anything at all?" He tried to hide his desperation in his voice.

Ashlei sensed it none-the-less and placed a hand upon his arm in comfort. "The HoloNews is really vilifying that President of yours. They'll throw him to a rancor if they ever catch him."

"That stoopa nut Culter would have to clone a rancor into existence first." Keatly added from her end of the couch.

"That too, or a Gundark, Force-forbid. They've also got a cruiser-load of embedded reporters and cambots following the troopers inside some new city they're fighting for. 'Lost Vegans', or something like that." Ashlei explained.

"Las Vegas?" Jason offered.

"That's it. They keep saying it's going to fall but they've been saying that for weeks now. And they're really playing up that state or province that tried to break away from your NAU a few days ago. Almost gloating about it, saying the rest of the Earth will follow shortly."

"Bastard Palin and his Alaskans. Any news on that fissure we keep seeing?" The HoloNews had placed the ground war on the back burner in its news line-up, concentrating on the disaster that befell the colony on Venus, but with a twenty-four and a half hour news cycle it still got snippets of air time. Several times a day the HoloNews showed 3D images of Jason's home world with the fleet encircling it. A month ago a large black scar had appeared across the area encompassing Illinois, Iowa and Indiana. Smoke from the black fissure obscured the Earth from the Great Lakes to the North Atlantic. According to Jason's understanding that area was nowhere near the fighting. It matched two more smoking scars across Central America and Turkey. The pirate crew hadn't wanted to talk to Jason about it but he had heard them whisper the menacing words 'Base Delta Zero' behind his back. Whatever that was, it didn't sound good.

"No, they're keeping awfully quiet about whatever that is. They can't shut their traps about poor Earth 2 and the _Eradicate,_ though. You earthers can be sneaky, rebel scum when you want to be. You pretty much wiped out two species with one big kriffing rock." Ashlei goaded him. Who started what and who was the greater menace to the Galaxy, The Empire or Earth, were arguments the crew loved to have with Jason just to get a rise out of him.

Jason wasn't sure what to say to that. The aliens on Venus weren't attacking the Earth directly and the four-armed one Brakatak had introduced him to on their orbiting ship had seemed nice enough, but they were expanding the Empire further into what Jason considered Earth turf. Besides landing astronauts on Mars what kind of threat had the Earth ever posed to the Empire?

Suddenly warm, red arms wrapped around his waist from behind. A chin rested on his shoulder and a soft montral pressed gently to the side of his face. "What's wrong, Jason? I could feel your anguish from across the hanger."

"I'm sorry. I know you told me that was one of the ways to the Dark Side and all. I was just worried about my family and Earth." Jason told her.

Ashla Ti came around his side and took his hand. She watched for a second as the images played across the holoprojector. "That is alright. I do not fear that you will turn into a Sith Lord any time soon. I must learn to deal with anguish and loss myself if I am to teach the new Jedi that will come in this Galaxy. I must know what it is to attach myself to someone and feel their loss as if it were my own. Helping you allows me to become a better Jedi."

Jason squeezed her hand in appreciation. They were each other's first relationship and they were both still learning how to interact around each other. Somehow they seemed to be faring well, despite the fact that Jason was learning to live in an alien society and Ashla had never expected to find love as long as she was a Jedi and had never considered allowing someone to share her life.

"You look like you could use some fresh air. Let's go for a flight." Ashla tugged on his arm, almost effortlessly tearing him away from the HoloNews images.

"I'm not really feeling it." Jason had thought he would have liked the alien metropolis more than he initially had, but every time he went into the intercity he found it so wildly different from everything he knew that culture shock was beginning to scare him off.

"Well, we can always stick around and I could kill you with my mind." She said. He had once nervously asked her if she could do so shortly after she had started explaining the Force to him and her affirmation had been shocking to say the least.

"You know, on second thought that flight sounds good. You hungry?" If he knew one thing about keeping a girlfriend it was to let them get their way when they wanted to go out. Along with a new working identity, Brakatak had also given him a steady supply of Imperial credits now that the crew was collecting protection money from tibanna miners around Jupiter. "It's almost lunch and what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't take my girl out to eat every now and then." He said, trying to pretend that the distant war didn't bother him so that Ashla wouldn't worry about him so much. A trip out might take his mind off of it for a while.

"We'll be back this evening." Ashla told Rana.

"See you guys later."

Ashla led the way to the airspeeder garage. The crew had obtained several flying and floating vehicles from around the city, usually from rather poor-security-minded individuals. It only took a few minutes of slicing for Keatly to criminally turn the conveyances' legal ownership over to one member of the crew or another.

Ashla lept behind the controls of her XJ-6. The twin engine airspeeder was painted yellow with a black stripe down the middle, inspiring Jason to dub it "Bumblebee" after the transforming toy of his childhood.

"Let's grab some Flangth-2-Go and go eat down on campus. You'll like it down there." Ashla suggested as they shot out of the garage.

The only campus that seemed to matter was the Imperial Academy of Mars, located out in the Margaritifer Terra Highlands. It was the military academy for the Empire. Jason was sure his new identity didn't give him clearance to visit the heavily fortified military district.

Ashla sensed his confusion, as she always did. "Not that academy, nerf-herder. I'm taking you downtown to the Kuat Research Academy. It's the civilian academy for engineering and design, and also houses the Yos Astrocartographic Institute of the Milky Way. It reminded me of the Academy you attended on your home world that you told me about. We won't be bothered by any shinies patrolling down there, either."

"Sounds cool . . . um, astral, I mean." He stuttered, which made her giggle. He was still having trouble with all the slang that even the smallest youngling in the Empire used. "It'd be nice to stroll around a campus again."

The airspeeder climbed for altitude as it headed for the sky ways leading into downtown Culter City. The towering red skyscrapers and skyhooks spilled out of the Ares Vallis and stretched across the horizon. Nearly the entirety of the 1st Martian Empire lived among those approaching buildings. To the north of them lay the sprawling, golden plain of the Chryse Planitia filled with thousands of agricombines growing the tons of alien crops the Empire consumed every day. Land grants had been given to any resident willing to work the land and break ground on the red planet. Jason had always imagined that those pioneers would be his fellow Earthlings. Somehow the Empire had stolen Earth's manifest destiny among the stars. Stolen it and stomped in its infancy with a plastoid armored boot.

"It's not what I imagined." Jason sighed as the airspeeder slowed for the heavier mid-day traffic heading into the city.

"What isn't what you imagined?" Ashla asked.

"This." Jason waved his hand at the city. "It's so, so, um, real."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. I always thought we'd make first contact with a society like the Vulcans or something." His words were lost in the rushing wind as they entered the being-made, red canyons of Culter City.

"Who are the Volcanoes?"

"They're a race of aliens from the Star Trek universe." As usual, Jason felt the familiar stirrings of embarrassment whenever he had talked about the possibility of alien life back on Earth. In this case, however, he told himself he shouldn't be embarrassed since it turned out he was right about life outside of Earth.

"That holodrama you told me about? The one where they all wear onesies?" Ashla laughed.

"Hey, they're functional for any event. No, what I was hoping for was some sort of unified mission or belief or creed. A species that was dedicated to some kind of goal." He said.

"The utopia you remembered from your show is just that: a fantasy. In the galaxy there is greed and crime and death. The Force which binds us all is constantly struggling to find a balance but half of it is the Dark Side which thrives on chaos. Light may think it is the fastest thing around but darkness is always there first, waiting for it."

"I know that. Even in Star Trek there were bad guys. But I wish the Empire had some kind of Prime Directive. A hands-off approach to societies such as Earth that would have let us develop at our own pace."

"Our Home Galaxy was never run that way. Colonization and conquest have always been the order of the day. If you were to ignore a planet then a neighbor would seize it and the next thing you know you've got an Ordnance Regional Depot on your flank, or a pirate or rebel base or worse, a future rival from those beings you let _develop_ on their own. Besides, how do you tax beings if you're ignoring them? Bureaucracy and credits have always been the true purposes of the Old Republic as well as both the Old Empire and this new one."

It made sense to Jason. He wished it didn't. It sounded a lot like Earth's history, the stuff they didn't teach you in school. "It would be astral, though, if you guys had at least some food replicators or some transporters."

Ashla laughed. "I'm afraid the physics behind those pieces of fiction are even beyond Old Man Kuat's researchers. But give us a chance. In my time I have witnessed the airspeeder-filled skyways of Coruscant, as well as the awe of the ashen sunsets above the volcano cities of Muunilinst, the unending turu grass savannahs of my own Shili, and the might of the planet-encircling driveyards around the planet Kuat. The Empire can be all things or nothing to a being who refuses to grasp what is out there for him. So I ask you not to judge us quite yet. And yes, I have my own reasons for distrusting this new Empire but I urge you to see it with your own eyes and not those clouded by something so silly as a holodrama."

"I will. I promise. Believe me there are things here that I like very much." He reached across the airspeeder and squeezed her hand. She smiled back at him.

They entered the shadows of the towering red buildings that filled the Ares Vallis and made up the homes and business of millions of beings in the capital city. Jason looked over at the airspeeder cruising one lane over. For the millionth time his mind fought a silent battle not to call the vehicle a flying car. The conveyance was piloted by a pinkish-orange alien with wide eyes like an insect's and some sort of breathing mask over its nose and mouth. Several smaller versions of the driver sat in the back seat of the airspeeder.

"Gand." Ashla said, noticing what he was staring at.

He made a mental note of the name on his growing list of known alien species. The novelty of alien life still hadn't worn off even after living amongst them for three months. The strangest thing about finding out there was alien life was that the humans in the Empire didn't share Jason's awe and wonderment of being surrounded by extraterrestrials. The humans who lived on Mars took the myriad life forms for granted and the crew had laughed when he had told them that, before the arrival of the Empire, Earthlings debated amongst themselves whether or not intelligent life existed. Kind of an arrogant viewpoint to have, Brakatak had told him, to think you were all alone in the universe.

Racism amongst the Imperial human races was practically nonexistent. Color and creed were not only ignored but also largely unnoticed. Speciesism was alive and well on Mars and from what he had learned had been government sanctioned in the galaxy they had left behind in something they called 'High Human Culture'. There the Old Empire had evidently been well on its way to an apartheid government that was steadily working to segregate the entire galaxy. Ashla had told him of secret wars being fought between humans and aliens and of whole species and worlds being wiped away by the 1st Galactic Empire.

Its offspring, the 1st Martian Empire, was supposed to be different. Emperor Yos had abolished slavery amongst the beings of Mars and given millions their freedom. He had allowed for the integration of all species along the entire spectrum of the Martian Empire, yet had turned his guns on the Earth and enslaved millions to fulfill the voracious appetite of the growing Empire. From what Jason could tell, Emperor Yos was at best a lying hypocrite and at his worst a monster who had churned Earth into a terrifying nightmare.

I'm not here to fume. I'm here to enjoy myself, he reminded himself.

Seeing the alien younglings, as they were called here, got Jason thinking along different lines. Humans were by far the largest species on Mars, consisting of nearly forty percent of the population, while the alien species were in the midst of a much lauded baby boom.

"Can different species interbreed with each other?"

"Most can't, which is a shame. Love should lead to family. The light side of the Force works towards this in its own way. I have started to learn that attachment can be a blessing in the Force and you have been the one to show me so. But others can interbreed, especially you humans." Ashla replied.

"You mean we're . . . we humans are out there having a bunch of sex with aliens?" he choked out.

"Not a lot. It's not enough you near-humans are everywhere back home, but you're the only beings in this new galaxy as well. But get your mind out of the gutter. It's not like humans were humping every wookiee or hutt that walked by. More or less, our humans can breed with most of the near-human races."

"What about us. Can we have a youngling? I mean with you being a Togruta and all and not the Jedi stuff." he asked.

"Firing the blaster before loading the tibanna aren't you." She laughed then, which made his heart race. "Yes, it is possible. The birthing rate is extremely small, much like it is with Twileks, who will breed with anything, but it has been known to happen from time to time."

"What would the child, I mean youngling, look like?"

"That is the great joke of the Force. Humans are the most abundant species anywhere yet their genes are largely recessive. Most offspring from human-alien pairings usually results in alien-appearing hybrids, hardly distinguishable from the alien parent."

"So a human-Togruta offspring would look like?" He prompted. He couldn't help that since he had started dating the beautiful Togruta the question had been on his mind.

As if reading his thoughts she answered, "Our youngling would have slightly smaller montrals and lekku and her pigmentation would be less pale and her color a few shades lighter than my red."

"Her?" he asked.

Ashla blushed. "Since Master Kolar visited me and told me to form a new kind of Jedi order, possibly one with families. I guess I started thinking about it, especially after we got together. I just started to like the idea of a girl. Though a boy would be just as astral." She admitted.

"She'll be as beautiful as her mother, especially if she doesn't take after me." Jason said. Ashla turned and stuck out her tongue at him but he continued, "But, we are still a long way from that. But I hope that is the road we are on, because well you know I'm fond of you and all . . ." His heart was racing in his chest and his palms suddenly became irritatingly sweaty. "Well, the light side is all about love and all. I think it wanted us to . . . um . . . be together and it's made me . . . um . . . realize something." He stuttered and wanted to punch himself in the arm.

"Yes?"

"Well, it's just that I love you."

"I know." she replied.

While that had been a super cool response he had hoped for something more substantial. Ashla must have felt his confusion as she avoided his gaze for a long time. Then she changed the subject.

"Look, it's the Princess." Ashla pointed towards a large, tri-wing shuttle that was making its passage through the mid-afternoon traffic. The red and black Imperial signet on the dorsal wing identified the passenger inside. "She's about come of age too. She'll be as old as I was when I was chosen as a padawan. Still an Imp scum though. It'd be best if she kept steering us away from Palpatine like her father does when she comes to power."

Jason respected the subject change and let his proclamation go unanswered. He knew she liked him but love was a strange new feeling for those in the Jedi order. He realized she had never believed that love would be part of her life and now that he had offered it to her she may need a little bit of time to accept it. He would give her all she needed.

"Kind of strange to have a twelve year old rule you." He observed, letting his previous comment drop.

"She'll turn thirteen in a few weeks and she's not in charge yet. Her father probably has a few decades left in him. But what's wrong with twelve? That's the usual time when a youngling becomes an adult." She said.

Life was much cheaper in the Empire than it had been on Earth, a sentiment that came from living in a society that consisted of a 100 quadrillion beings and made up of an estimated 20 million sentient species. He wondered for a second who, besides hutts and wookiees, got left behind.

"You can't go to that fancy military academy they've got set up outside of town until you're sixteen or seventeen." Which was a strange thought after coming from a society on Earth where it was common for most people to leech off their parents until well into their twenties and many beyond even that.

"True, not without an Imperial waiver like the Princess has. The rich send their offspring to secondary school, at least those from the Core usually do. Just puts off adulthood for a couple more years. Twelve is a perfectly acceptable age to serve in government or spacer crews. The Imperial Army and Navy don't take beings that young but planetary fleets and militias usually do. It's also the age many farmers attain their first agri-combines and move away from their families. Pod-racers and gladiators have been known to race and fight at that age or even younger in the Outer-Rim. In the Jedi Order you were no longer a youngling and were considered a Padawan learner at that age. And you are old enough to lead troopers in battle."

"And how many of you fell in battle?" Jason asked, knowing that most beings on Mars still considered the Clone Wars to be _the War_, and what was happening on Earth to be a side-show to be seen on the evening Holonews.

"Some . . . many . . . nothing compared to the purge." Her voice dropped to a whisper. He knew it was a subject he shouldn't push her on. She was still a hunted outlaw in the Empire.

He put his hand on her arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad you escaped."

"And I'm glad I got you out of that camp." she smiled. "We're here." She set the airspeeder gently down in a parking space along a brick-lined walking path that ran along the north bank of the Yos River.

The wide, cerulean waterway sparkled as the afternoon sun danced on its waves. The river neatly bisected the city, only interrupted by several swirling sandbars that were a dark red from the iron-choked sands of distant Martian plains. Small, gray animals basked in the sunlight on the sandbars, occasionally barking at passerby along the banks. Several of the animals swam about in the river or splashed each other in play. A few suddenly extended their webbed arms to reveal wings and launched themselves into the sky. Jason thought they looked like flying otters.

"Bulfus, from Corulag. Moff Culter's been busy with his cloning program. Hope the Emperor is keeping an eye on him or one of these days the old stoopa is gonna clone a Krayt Dragon." Ashla said. She soon grew quiet and focused on their surroundings, she always used these excursions into the city to let herself focus on the Force. Jason knew she was reaching out with her mysterious sixth sense looking for beings with the same powers as her. The ghost of her old master had promised her they would come. So Jason walked quietly beside her and let her have her space while he enjoyed the scenery.

The Kuati Research Academy, or 'Mars U' as it was dubbed by the local populace, inhabited a stretch of riverbank one mile long and several miles from the downtown area of Culter City. No, they use kilometers here like the Europeans, he chided himself. Scores of dormitories, lecture halls and laboratories surrounded an open area that Jason would have called a quad or commons back on Earth. The campus's commons opened up from a large park that separated the school from the river.

Many beings walked along the paths, some with exotic pets on leashes that looked like no domesticated animals Jason had ever seen. He didn't notice any joggers like he would have encountered on Earth and figured the fitness-craze wasn't as severe in the Empire since their standards of beauty were based on alien as well as human desires. Ashla motioned towards a levitating repulser cart where a vendor was selling Flangth-2-Go. Jason bought a couple of them and they turned out to be some kind of meat sandwich, much to his relief. He still wasn't sure when his gut would ever forgive him for coming to this alien world. They washed them down with glass bottles of Fizzade.

"Let's keep walking." Ashla suggested after they finished their meal.

He couldn't think of anything he'd like more and took Ashla's red hand in his. Her rebuff in the airspeeder still stung and he wondered why she hadn't opened up like he had. But he had no idea how to approach the subject with her. Why were women such a mystery no matter what planet you were on?

The commons area took him back to Killian Court and its sprawling lawn at M.I.T. A trio of bulky half killer-whale, half human hybrids thundered across the lawn kicking, what Jason now recognized as a limmie ball, between them. A lot of the students on the path were female since the Imperial draft had swept up a much higher percentage of their male classmates. If Ashla wasn't there he might have noticed their presence more but as it was he could have sworn one of them was wearing a crucifix around her neck as she went past. He wrote it off as a momentary trick of the light. His eyes glanced this way and that, taking it all in. On Earth most students would have lugged backpacks or laptop computers from class to class, whereas here the average student preferred hand held datapads that fit easily into utility belts at their waists. They reminded Jason of Batman's gadget belt every time he saw them.

A group of a dozen or more aliens and humans were spaced apart on the far lawn going through the motions of some kind of strange martial art class under the eyes of their instructor who looked like a rat-man alien. He immediately thought of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle's Master Splinter.

"Teras Kasi." Ashla said, indicating the martial arts class. "The way of the Krayt Dragon. It's . . . um, interesting."

Jason could tell she wanted to say her Jedi skills were far superior but his girlfriend's humility wouldn't allow her to voice such an opinion. Jedi were not supposed to be competitive, she had told him.

On the path ahead of them three students handed out flimsiplasts flyers to passerby. They were several of the acrylic pieces of translucent plastoid crumpled up along the sides of the walkway. Seeing a chance to practice his budding aurebesh deciphering skills, he slowed to take one of the handouts from a species he recognized as Rana's: a Duro, this one a male.

"Please take some time to read our Student Manifesto for the New Empire, sir." The Duro held out a flyer for Jason to take. Ashla stopped as well but waved her hand in polite refusal when the Duro offered her one. Her attention was on a small Twilek youngling playing catch exceptionally well with its father out on the lawn.

Jason flipped the flyer over several times and read the words as carefully as he could. It translated into nothing more than a long, dull list of political demands that read like Swedish furniture instructions. To Jason, however, it looked like a litany of things that he took for granted as an earthling. There were calls for pensions for Imperial workers and veterans, the establishment of Imperial versions of the Environment Protection Agency and a Center for Disease Control to deal with the recent Ebola outbreak, universal health care, a reestablishment of the Imperial Senate, an Imperial Bank, government grants for students to attend the Academy, agricombine subsidies, cloning subsidies, civilian extra-system exploratory rights and de-nationalization of hypermatter production. The list went on and on.

"Do you see anything you like, sir? Or anything you'd like to discuss?" The Duro asked. Jason got the impression the student activists were used to being ignored.

"This is quite a list you've managed to compile." Jason said, flipping over the flimsiplast to read the other side. All-in-all more than two hundred grievances filled the handout. Most of them were startlingly simple. "You're calling for the appointment of judges?"

"Yes, sir. As of right now all criminal proceedings including sentencing take place at CCG headquarters. The Red Hats only know how to dole out one punishment: Imprisonment in that maximum security facility on the other side of the planet." Another of the students answered, this one a Rodian female.

"Why don't you push for the establishment of juries as well?" Jason suggested. "Or ask that the judges be in charge of issuing warrants for search and seizures. It'd get rid of all these checkpoints and illegal searches that the CCG conducts all over the city."

"Juries? Warrants? Like in the Old Republic?" Her voice was hesitant and Jason heard the current of mistrust just under the surface. He had seen that reaction before whenever anyone spoke of the Pre-Empire government but he could also see deep contemplation in her eyes.

"Yes, juries of your peers. They could evaluate laws as well as crimes. Not everything has to be as the Emperor declares it. The beings of the Empire should also have some freedom in deciding how they should live their lives." Jason said. The Rodian frantically scribbled down what he was saying on her datapad.

"That borders on treason, my friend" The Duro whispered. The third student, a short, blue elephant-man stopped passing out flyers and came over to hear what they were talking about.

"Is there an ordinance that says I'm restricted in my freedom of speech?" Jason asked.

"Yes, hundreds of them. Speaking out against the Emperor is usually a ticket to the spice mines." The Duro replied. "Though, as you know, Kessel is a long ways off."

"But Camp 1138 isn't. I see here, item eighty-four, you want a permanent ban on slavery of sentient beings,"

"Yes, a large percentage of our friends come from slave stock that was freed by Emperor Yos three years ago. Most have done quite well here in Culter City and wish to stay that way. No resident should have the threat of the slave-collar hanging over them." The Rodian said.

"And yet the Empire prospers on the backs of the millions of slaves in the camps." Jason said.

"Criminals. Of course the wicked should be forced to labor. Should the innocent victims pay to have them lounge around and sponge off of society? What world are you from?" The Duro laughed.

A world where that belief had been in practice every day of his life. "Corellia," he replied defensively, worried that his true place of origin would become discovered. "But I'm not talking about the criminals the CCG rounds up. I'm talking about the millions of earthlings who are being abducted from their homes and forced to work to death in the Empire's mines and factories."

"Oh, them. Yes, ending the war is one of our goals as well. Its further down the list, near the bottom." The Duro said. "There's also a rumor making the rounds that the government is going to start selling some of the captured earthlings to private residents again. We're also against that. It'd drop wages too low in the city. Don't know of anyone who's all pumped to have those nasty earthling near-humans come in and take our jobs."

"Item one-hundred-thirty-nine, sir." The elephant-man said helpfully, "Those beings you speak of aren't slaves though. Heard it from a cousin of mine that works on an agricombine near the camp. They're all prisoners-of-war, enemy troopers and what not. They earned their fate by starting the war with us."

"Starting the war?" Jason tried to hide how affronted he felt at their absurd accusation. The Empire had invaded Earth, not the other way around.

"Remember? They attacked that Star Destroyer last year and killed all those sailors. Stang sneaky of them." The Rodian said.

Jason had heard more of that here on Mars than the governments of Earth had ever let on. Back home the news had been mostly fixated on the capture of the Moon. "I've been out to the camps. I worked as a civilian contractor for the CCG on setting up their, um, refuse collection." Jason lied, "There's millions of them. Husbands and wives, shattered families, younglings, and old. There were so few troopers they must have just disappeared amongst the hordes of desperate and hungry refugees. They're slaughtering them by the thousands out there in the mines. A hundred dead for every durasteel beam that pours out of our factories. Do you really want our glorious Empire to stand for that or do you want it to mean something more than the Old Empire did under Palpatine?"

"I knew those numbers didn't add up." The Duro exclaimed, flip-flopping on his position as easily as if he was a corrupt NAU congressman . "Who ever heard of a planet that could lose millions of troopers and keep fighting? And those burned out cities they keep showing on the HoloNews? The news wants us to believe they were inhabited by nothing but earthling stormtroopers." The other two student activists eagerly nodded their heads in agreement.

"You shouldn't buy into the Empire's lies so easily, my friends," Jason said. "The HoloNews says whatever words Yos puts in their mouths."

"Females and younglings? I wouldn't want an earthling as my neighbor but I wouldn't wish the Imperial Inquisitors on anyone. We should add to our list the reparation of the earthlings to their planet as soon as the war is over." The Rodian said. "Do you think our troopers are killing civilians on purpose?"

He had seen the conquest of Honolulu with his own eyes but everything had happened so quickly. He remembered the executions on the beach when a few prisoners had resisted, and recalled the slaughter within Camp 1138 during the uprising. "Yes, I think they're doing it deliberately. I believe they're on Earth with the intention of wiping out an entire species."

"My cousin is in the 395th. What have they turned him into?" The Rodian gasped. Jason could see tears starting to build in her eyes as the truth sank in. "A youngling killer."

"A youngling killer." The Duro rolled the damning phrase over his tongue.

"But they're stormtroopers." The elephant-man alien said. "They've always been the Emperor's cloned goons."

"Not so much anymore. Yos has built up the army for this war and to do it he drafted thousands of our brothers and friends to fight for him. You've seen the HoloNews of those families waiting for their loved one's remains at the airspeeder fields. Men who should have been here helping build something great were instead millions of kilometers away, acting like monsters." Jason argued. The Duro nodded eagerly while clinching his hands into tight fists at his sides. It felt great for Jason to finally be able to vent some of his frustration over the war with this trio of alien students. Several passerby slowed at Jason's impassioned speech.

Ashla came up alongside him and squeezed his arm, a warning to remind him that what he was saying was treason in the Empire. The three students looked at him nervously, they hadn't grown up in a society where speaking your mind against the government was a very healthy option.

Jason lowered his voice. Brakatak had told him not to trust anyone he met in the city. The Empire was full of informants, like what his grandfather had told him the old Soviet Union was like in his time. "No one will take you seriously with this many soft complaints. It's too easy to dismiss you as part of some sort of lunatic fringe."

"But these issues are important. They will go a long way to helping a lot of beings." The Rodian said.

"I'm sure they will, but they will leave you open to a tremendous amount of attacks on your beliefs. You need to focus on one issue like a laser and fight for it until you've won. Once you have overcome one problem you can lend your support to other issues. Beings will also see you as a voice of reason if you get some of these obstacles settled." Ashla said for the first time.

"What item do you suggest we focus on first?" The Duro asked.

"One of them that gets you really fired up and that you can put a lot of energy into. And one that has a clear, visible goal. Some of these are great, like judiciary reform and subsidies, but on the surface they're incredibly dull and can take years to decipher."

"I could tell the conscription issue touched you all very deeply." Ashla said, hiding that she had most likely sensed their anger in the Force. "No one should be allowed to force you to leave your home and go and kill an enemy on a foreign world without your permission. The Moffs say the war is as good as won. Why are they still sending troopers there then?"

The students talked amongst themselves in hushed, urgent voices. The elephant-man spoke for the group. "What you have said makes a star system of sense. We're sick and tired of the military grabbing anybody they want and throwing them at the Earth, especially if they're being sent there to kill younglings. But what can we do? The Home Legion is still here on Mars and they would blast us down if we rose up against the Emperor's decrees."

"An uprising would tear this city apart and in the end the stormtroopers would win. You need to get more beings on your side. You need to picket, petition and protest. You've got to embrace non-violent means of getting your message across. You've got to let old man Yos know that, um," Jason looked deep down for some kind of message that would resonate with the aliens. Something that would centralize their message. Then he remembered something else his grandfather had told him, "You've got to tell him," Jason shouted and pumped his hand into the air, "Hell no! We won't go!"

The aliens stared at him in awe. Then one by one they each put their own fist into the air. "Hell no! We won't go!" They repeated.

"I've got to get to the dorms and let other beings know about this." The Duro said excitedly.

"Me too. I've got friends in the student government and the Dean's Council who are going to get an earful." The Rodian exclaimed. The three aliens dropped their flyers and ran in separate directions across the campus. The elephant-man stopped long enough to turn and wave goodbye before disappearing behind an ivy-covered wall.

"I bet you're feeling pretty good about yourself." Ashla said, which made Jason beam in delight. "I just hope what you've said doesn't get any of them blasted by the CCG."

Jason frowned. The Empire was certainly different than the Union he had come from. Here things were run by an iron fist and the Empire meant to keep it that way. If they had their way they would completely crush the Earth under that iron fist as well. Jason was proud he was able to do something that might throw a monkey wrench into the Emperor's schemes and hopefully help out his own people on Earth.

"We should get back to the homestead. I'm not sensing any other Force-users out here and you've certainly gotten a lot out of our little trip today." Ashla said.

"I'd say so." Jason said, feeling on top of the world. Now if only he could think of a way to get back to Earth without endangering the lives of his friends aboard the _Agen Light_.

Jason was so engrossed in thoughts of how his newfound friends could legally distract the Empire that he hardly noticed the usual sound and fury of Culter City as Ashla drove them back towards the Malastare Heights neighborhood. He certainly didn't notice the blue Imperial Patrol Speeder parked near the entrance to the upper homestead when their airspeeder overflew it on their way to the vehicle garage.

"Hold. I sense something." Ashla tensed as the XJ-6 shut down.

From the hanger bay a silhouetted figure ran towards them, the _Agen's Light_ aglow behind the sprinter. As she came closer the worried features of Keatly became recognizable.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I did too stellar of a job." The Firrerreo sobbed, tears streaking down her face.

"It's alright, Keatly. What's happened?" Jason asked as he climbed out of the airspeeder. Keatly ran to him and threw her arms around him. Jason placed both hands on her shoulders and eased out of her embrace so that he could face her. He smiled and looked her in the eye. "What's going on?"

"I spliced you up too kriffing good. I made you into a stellar Imp. And now they're here to take you away." Keatly looked back down the hallway to the hanger. More figures were emerging out of the light. Nearby, Ashla cautiously reached for her concealed lightsaber.

"No." Jason whispered, sensing her movement. "Let's find out what's up first."

"Jason Bogan, I presume?" An Imperial Army officer strode out of the tunnel. He was flanked on both sides by stormtroopers. The alien soldiers had their own weapons drawn and held at the ready. Behind them the remainder of the _Light's_ crew milled about the hanger, trying to listen in on the conversation that was about to play out inside the garage.

"That's me." Jason answered before he realized he probably shouldn't have. Too late now.

"Imperial Resident Bogan, born in Coronet City, Corellia, on the 34th day of the ninth month in 971 of the Ruusan Reformation? Currently employed as a crewman for Brakatak the Gran, local spacer and transport operator?" The officer asked, reading the information off of a datapad he held before him.

Jason mentally checked that the data the officer had recited was the carefully constructed background Keatly had created for him. If the Imperials knew the truth about his background they would blast him where he stood. "Yes, that's me."

The officer nodded calmly and handed the datapad to the stormtrooper on his left. "In accordance with the Imperial Conscription Decree, you are honored to be hereby drafted into the service of His Majesty's Imperial Army Corps as a trooper, 2nd class. You have five minutes to gather your belongings and say your farewells to any beings that you'd care to."

The two stormtroopers stepped forward and suddenly flanked Jason. It was evident they had performed this duty before and were prepared if he tried to make a break for it.

He held up his hand at Ashla, who was once again making for her weapons. If she tried something here the Empire would certainly find out about her Jedi origins and bring down the might of the Home Legion on Brakatak and the rest of the crew.

He met her gaze. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she nodded in understanding. He resisted the urge to be bitter and preoccupied with regret that he had had so little time with her. There would be another time to take action. She looked unable to voice the words that were etched all over her face.

He mouthed the words she had said earlier. 'I know'. She smiled and wiped away a tear.

He was terrified of what lay ahead and even more frightened of leaving the one family he knew he had left in the Galaxy.

One thing was sure. He had finally found a way back to Earth.

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alright the wookiee's back. I don't want to have a pile of arms stacked up around my place but if you don't review there's only so much our life debt can do to hold him in check


	65. Dusel 5

**Due to some dark subject matter in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised**

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**Southern Imperial Flank, Xuancheng, PRC, 25K from Yangtze River, Earth**

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_Retreat._ Dusel wasn't sure the word was part of the Imperial vocabulary. The Army certainly was acting as if they didn't understand its meaning.

And what had sent the mighty Imperial Army reeling on its heels? "A kriffing river." Dusel complained. Not the Chinese Army on the high ground across the river who had watched them go. No, it was the river itself.

He watched sheets of water fizzle against the particle shield covering the viewscreen of his AT-AT's cockpit. His best friend, Malm, idly scanned for targets in the seat bedide him. They conversed across a private comm channel lest their walker's commander overhear them.

"It's not like the vacheads up in Fleet didn't know it was there or that it was breeching its levees. Don't they have enough eyes in the sky up there to swivel a few down here every once in a while." Malm argued. "And who's ever heard of a monsoon that's lasted this long or dumped this much water?"

"The Chinese did. I remember all those scout troopers saying the abos were pulling back on the western bank and moving up into the hills and mountains around that Hefei place." Dusel said.

"And no one listened to 'em. That's the Empire for you." Malm growled. Indignation over having to turn away from the enemy burned fiercely in the Armor Corps. It was believed that AT-ATs would never run from an enemy, a fact made ironic given that the massive armored beasts were designed with extremely limited reverse capabilities, only enough to back into a maintenance bay or storage rack aboard a Star Destroyer.

"I heard the generals did. Some of them went straight to the Theater Commander. And what did Moff Seco do? Overrode them and told them to take their orders directly from those stang Commissars."

Malm was quiet for a moment. There was always no telling if their comm was being monitored, even limited private channels like the one they were on. Their commander, Major Wells, always seemed like he wasn't listening in but these days it was hard to tell. Troopers had been pulled from the line for saying less.

The truth was the political officers had dropped the limmie ball. They had kept the Army that had surged out of Shanghai in a line that ran from Wuhu, through Maanshan, up to the crater that had once been Nanjing, and dug in along the eastern bank of the Yangtze. When the Army had asked for permission to cross the river and conduct another major attack on the enemy the Commissars had overridden them, stating that the Theater Commander was busy with plans elsewhere. And where would that be? Scuttlebutt was he had gotten the Army around Target East bogged down in some city on the lesser continental mass. And _Piper_ was stalled somewhere in the South Pacific. Where was the Theater Commander focusing then, Dusel wondered?

Then the rain had started. It came by the cruiser load. A warm spring rain that beat down like hail and smothered the columns of smoke and ash that rose from the ground stretching all the way back to the landing sites in Shanghai. The Imperial Army had watched, expecting the command to surge again across the river. A river that rose every day. A river that was now free of hundreds of years of dams and levees and man-made detriment thanks to the orbital bombardment unleashed by _Tarkin's Fist._

The civilian survivors of Wuhu were the first to recognize the danger. Their ancestors had been swept away by the hundreds of thousands in times gone past. They had long ago learned to respect the Yangtze. The Empire only saw another river. The civilians had fled south and east, many of them back into Imperial controlled territory, exchanging the unknown danger for the inevitable one. Imperial CompForce field police reported the rise in refugees behind the lines but were once again ignored by the new political officers running the Army.

The engineers along the banks were the next to sense the impending disaster. They saw the rising tides and knew their efforts to build levees would come much too late. It was at that time the scouts started to report the withdrawal of the Chinese units across the river. At first it was believed they were being sent to quell the civil war that was reportedly growing across China. Dusel hadn't cared. The daily artillery that rained down on the durasteel hull of Monkey 9 had finely started to slacken as the Chinese moved off to the west.

Then at night the first reports came. Observation posts along the river started calling back asking for permission to pull back from the river because their posts were steadily filling with water. Snipers and engineers started trotting back from the front. Stormtrooper platoons started occupying burnt out rooftops. Monkey 9 became a refuge for their mechanized infantry escorts the _Rancor_ Platoon. The stormtroopers came aboard soaking wet and looking like half-drowned womp-rats. Then the alarms had chimed out. The earthling-made levees along the Wuhu waterfront had failed. The river was swamping the city. Monkey 9 was positioned several blocks away from the Wuhu docks but it wasn't more than an hour before her footpads were completely submerged.

AT-STs splashed back and forth across the rising waters, rescuing troopers from collapsing buildings and streets turned to rapids filled with debris so thick a trooper could almost walk across it. The _Rancor_ troopers used Monkey 9's drop lines to fish out stormtroopers who were being swept along with the current. Soon their hold was packed with water-logged stormtroopers and rear echelon support personnel. Against orders thousands fled east ahead of the rising tide.

Three days later the order finally came. Three days too late for several companies worth of front line troopers that had been swept away in the flood. "Attention All Commands- Strategically maneuver and consolidate our lines on higher ground to the east of the river line."

Chaos.

It had obviously been a political officer that had issued those orders. There had been no axis of advance to follow. No new position to form. No staging areas or stated mission. The Imperial Army had been told to move east and it did. It was every trooper for himself. The roads were jammed with thousands of troopers splashing their way east. Every field was a watery deathtrap. Hovertanks charged across the countryside, blasting down any obstacle that got in their way. AT-STs plodded their way through the mud of thousands of rice paddies with their footpads caked in mud and clay. The refugee columns that had fled before them were overrun and brushed aside.

Dusel would remember the panicked screams for the rest of his days as Monkey 9 plowed through one stalled landspeeder after another. Abos dove into the waters and tried to seek refuge atop tiny sandbars that were slowly disappearing across the fields. The AT-AT's footpads stomped the Earth animals that pulled hundreds of abo carts underfoot. The frightened creatures screamed like wounded women as they were crushed under the AT-AT's colossal weight. Their owners scrambled between the walker's legs in an effort to avoid being crushed as well.

When it was over, he had removed his helmet walked back into the cockpit tunnel and vomited. Major Wells hadn't even reprimanded him for leaving his post. The scowl across the Major's face belied his rare frustration over the situation.

Days of death followed as Chinese and Imperial alike fled the river. Some troopers reportedly made it as far as Shanghai before they stopped. Finally they heard rumors that someone in Fleet Intelligence had ordered the Imperial Army to stop and entrench along the S55 Expressway. The raised highway towered over the surrounding countryside. It became their shelter in the storm.

The Imperial Army stopped there and caught its breath. Stragglers trickled in and reformed their units over the next few days. The wind and the rain never slackened and scouts reported the ruins of Wuhu and Nanjing were being scoured clean by the mighty river. The Army had fought for its life and won but now faced a shame that it would never live down. To be sent back on its heels by a river was unthinkable in the Imperial mindset and the embarrassment had cost hundreds of Imperial lives.

Then someone in the Bureau of Operations had noticed that the Imperial Army's southern flank was wide open. Luckily the Chinese in that area were less organized than their comrades to the west. They were mostly the remains of units that had been shattered in the surge out of Shanghai and brushed aside by the Imperial advance. Supposedly another faction of abos were in charge of the enemy units in that direction than the ones out west. Orders were cut for Monkey Squadron to push south and bolster the flank at Xuancheng.

Dusel didn't like it. That area had suffered major flooding as well and it had been in nearby Sanshan that a Dog Squadron walker had been destroyed by a Being Bomber a few days before the retreat had been ordered. Nobody knew whether or not that canny abo had been killed and his lasting phantom menace had put the fear of the Force in the walker crews. There was no telling if the abos in the area had learned a thing or two about how to take out an AT-AT from their canny comrade.

But at least it was a chance to push forward again. Morale in the new Imperial line had fallen to a level Dusel had never seen. Fights broke out daily while CompForce, now the lap dogs of the Commissars, roamed the lines arresting dissenters. Malm had heard the arrestees were being hauled back to Shanghai where they were awaiting Seco to initiate tribunals. Why wasn't the new Emperor involved in this, Dusel wondered? And what was the Theater Commander waiting for?

They departed early the next morning. During the night they had taken aboard a tibanna resupply as well as several squads from _Rancor_ Platoon. They were to escort a mixed cavalry squadron of hovertanks, AT-STs and 008 trooper carriers down the S322 Expressway and secure the Imperial line at Xuancheng. They hadn't been informed of any preparatory barrages or flank support. They were given only a cursory route of march with no information on resupply, how long they were expected to hold the position or even where exactly they were expected to entrench. The vagueness of the orders once again confirmed the Commissars, not the Generals, were running the show.

As they advanced on their objective Monkey Squadron's forward detachment surprised enemy troopers in stray transport landspeeders or perched along the edges of the roadway. Some attempted to fight it out and the walkers cut them down. Others, astonished, simply raised their hands in surrender and went ignored. Monkey Squadron's escorting stromtroopers took the abo troopers into captivity. High Colonel Jade refused to permit his walkers to be diverted.

Without taking his face away from his commander's scope Major Wells addressed Malm, "Gunner, turn over the Legion comm channel to the cockpit audicasters."

"Roger, roger, sir." Malm responded. The Gunner looked over at Dusel and shrugged. Their commander had become more distrusting of orders from high command, and from the Commissars in particular, and was starting to rely on obtaining a bigger picture of the battlefield for himself. Lately Dusel had noticed a latent air of animosity towards the Commissar officer in Monkey 1 from their Eriaduan commander.

Immediately reports came back from the forward elements of fighting in the town of Wuxingxiang along their route of march. Apparently detachments of the security element were getting bogged down in street fighting as the scattered Chinese forces pulled south. Dusel was concerned when he heard spotter reports of civilians fleeing the town amid the battle that had sprung up ahead of them.

"Driver, more power to the viewport shields." Wells ordered.

Dusel reached forward and turned up the power levels on the cockpit's deflector screen that was keeping their view clear of rain.

"By the core, is this rain ever going to stop?" Malm growled, "Reminds me what the old timers say about Kamino."

"Or what they say about the Battle of Jabiim." Dusel responded grimly.

Malm took a deep breath. Every walker pilot was taught the hard lessons of the AT-AT's first action during the second year of the Clone War. The Model A AT-ATs had gotten bogged down in rainy conditions like the ones they faced here in China. While they had foundered in the mud they had become vulnerable to agile Nimbus commandos, who destroyed seven of the heavy walkers before the Republic pilots and their Jedi generals had had time to react.

"Ever get this way back on Chandrila?" Malm asked.

"We'd get spring rains and such but nothing like these endless monsoons. Besides, even if we did most beings would sit around and try to paint it rather than do something about it." Dusel complained. His home world was famous galaxy-wide for its artist colonies and pacifist movements. He had fallen out with his father when he had rejected becoming a poet and ran away from the family's agricombine to join the Army.

"Same with Alderaan. If we had rain like this someone would file a complaint that the weather was behaving in an uncivilized and unrefined manner."

"E chu ta, sounds as boring as Chandrila." Dusel said. He had left his home world looking for excitement but now that he had seen what war could do with his own eyes he longed for the slow evenings of Chandrila's plains.

Dusel's attention went back to the hyperwave channel that was broadcasting inside the cockpit. Their forward scouts were reporting back to High Colonel Jade in Monkey 1 about the situation ahead of them. The hyperwave from the forward AT-STs had not begun to prepare Dusel for the scene in the valley below him.

They had been working Monkey Squadron through the confusing network of roadways southeast of Wuxingxiang. There had been fighting down in the small city, where another forward element on a converging axis had been engaged and funnels of black smoke rose high into the gray sky.

Dusel labored to keep Monkey 9 clear of the action in Wuxingxiang, following the path blazed by the AT-STs in the reconnaissance and security elements. The Monkey's mission was to reach to reach the G50 Huyu Expressway just east of Xuancheng and to not get bogged down in local actions unless it proved absolutely unavoidable.

The AT-STs' commander was reporting back to the High Colonel about the backed-up traffic along the east-west artery of the G50 Expressway, which was the main line of communication the Army hoped to exploit. The scout commander became emotional over the hyperwave, searching for adjectives, describing the scene up ahead in apocalyptic terms. "There're thousands of abos ahead. They've got the high ground along the roadway and they're blocking our advance."

High Colonel Jade had only the mission in mind. "Stop acting like a nervous little virgin and go through them." Dusel heard Malm chuckling at the Colonel's orders.

As Dusel's walker broke over the ridge the view forced him to halt his AT-AT's march. The scout commander had not been succumbing to his emotions. Stretching across the rainy landscape civilian vehicles, wheeled landspeeders and animal drawn alike, packed the vital highway, all struggling to move west. There was so little vehicle movement that at first glance the column appeared to be at a complete standstill. But once the eye began to seek out details the slow, nudging movements became apparent, though they were really more due to nervousness than actual progress.

Along what had once been an eastbound lane a column of military supply vehicles smoldered where they had been caught in the open by Imperial air power. Here and there clusters of wrecked or burned civilian landspeeders and small wheeled gravtrucks further thickened the consistency of the traffic flow. Some vehicles had simply been abandoned by panic-stricken occupants. On both sides of the roadway a straggling line of civilian abos with suitcases, packs and bundles trudged along.

Dusel guessed that this must have been the last wave of abos that fled Nanjing and Wuhu at the beginning of the Imperial surge. They had settled into refugee centers to the south of the Imperial thrust and had been displaced once again when the Imperial Army turned in their direction. They must have been trying to reach the imagined safety hundreds of kilometers to the south where a powerful new faction of Chinese was reported to exist. It was a pathetic scene but Dusel forcibly reined in his sympathies. Wouldn't the abos would have put the beings of the Empire in the same position, if not a worse one, had they been allowed to invade Mars first?

He doubted a Chinese or an American hovertank commander would have wasted as much thought on the situation as Major Wells and the rest of Monkey Squadron had already squandered. The walkers halted along the ridgeline and watched the scene of near-human misery as if they were at the holodramas. Like most troopers Dusel pictured his earthling counterparts as democracy-loving primitives, always looking for the sneakiest way to mercilessly strike the Empire, unbothered by human cares.

"Driver, move out." Wells ordered. "Move us into combat formation with the rest of the squadron."

Dusel did as he was ordered and Monkey 9 lumbered forward again. She moved alongside her sisters to facilitate a safe crossing of the muddy fields that tapered down to the highway. Unhampered by the mud, the hovertanks and 008 troop transports raced ahead. Their artillery escort in the form of an AV7 battery remained on the ridge, covering the movement of the walkers and their escorts.

Dusel's spirits had fallen sharply. He had imagined that once they reached the enemy's rear the roadways would be clear. He was irritated about having to wait. Now he had to work around this exodus. He could not see how they would be able to make adequate time.

But remaining static would not solve anything. Dusel figured that the High Colonel was having them stay close to the refugee column, exploiting them as passive airspeeder and artillery defense. The enemy would have to strike at his own beings to hit Dusel's walker. Dusel was far from certain that the abo officers would show any compunction about such an action but it was still better than driving through open rice paddies all day long. Dusel wondered if the Chinese had perhaps even planned this, using their own beings as a shield to block the progress of the Imperial Army on the roadways.

Dusel found himself thinking of his father. He did not fit here but his image was insistent. His father scolded him, flashing his high Chandrilian temper, demanding that he see the mass of frightened near-humanity down on the roadway as a crowd of terrified individuals seeking nothing more than safety.

Dusel only saw the refugees as an annoyance. He wanted to be past them already. Dusel wanted to feel like a clone cavalry trooper from the last War. He wanted to drive those old AT-TEs faster and faster into Separatist battledroids. He wanted to relive the stories he had heard as a youngling, stories that he had realized were far from the truth when they faced the cold, harsh reality of war on Earth.

Monkey Squadron unfolded from the high ridgeline and its crown of trees and opened into a quick, if somewhat ragged, battle formation. The Imperial artillery pieces sidled off to blasting positions as the wave of hovertanks and walkers, followed by the 008s, plowed toward the valley floor. The troopers who had retreated from the Yangtze had a different feel to them now. Dusel could sense it even through the durasteel walls of the walker. It was, he suspected, the feel of troopers who had tasted the blood of their enemies.

Walkers threw dirt and mud in their footfalls as they maneuvered across the declining slope. Cockpits and turrets wheeled to challenge the flanks. Dusel saw only the readiness, the will to fight, and ignored the unevenness of the line. He knew that the High Colonel's demanding approach to training, despite the resentment it had caused on Mars, had paid off. At times like this it all seemed so simple. The war was about to be won and then they could go home. Dusel felt that they could match their walkers against any in this galaxy or the one they had left behind.

Along the expressway, still nearly a kilometer distant, the refugees on foot began to run at the sight of the skirmish line of walkers. First a few of them ran, then others gathered around the first clusters like swarming insects. Some fell. Others discarded their last possessions.

At first this response surprised Dusel. The civilians weren't a target and they had hardly mattered to him beyond an irritation. It had never occurred to him that this slow river of near-humanity should be afraid at the sight of his walker. The idea of causing them any intentional injury had never crossed his mind. In a moment of revelation he saw the world through the fear-widened eyes of the refugees. He imagined that he could hear their screams even though the walker's armor and the seal of the bucket over his ears.

"Driver, move us over onto that secondary roadway heading off to the west. Gunner, train your blasters to refuse the right flank." Wells ordered.

Dusel was starting to turn Monkey 9 when the first muzzle blast flashed from across the valley.

Beyond the stream of fleeing civilians an enemy force of undetermined size either had been waiting in ambush or had just reached the wooded ridge on the opposite side of the valley. Other muzzle blasts flared in quick succession as the Imperial force maneuvered to take advantage of the sparse local cover. They had been caught fully exposed on the slope.

On his right, Dusel saw an _Imperial I_ tank's energy shield overload as it was struck by multiple hits. The hovertank lurched to the left before it erupted, its turret rising like the top of a mountain lifted by the force of a volcanic eruption. Some of the hovertank platoons had begun to blast back but the enemy was well concealed and the hovertanks had to blast from the halt to have any hope of hitting their targets.

A nearby AT-ST was hit and started to burn before crashing to the ground.

Good gunners, Dusel thought, for a pack of barve.

His first instinct was to wonder why the High Colonel wasn't ordering everyone back up into the treeline. Their ridge was considerably more commanding than the one occupied by the enemy.

Suddenly the blue holoimage of High Colonel Jade appeared on the control board imagecaster. "Attention All Commands, do not return blasts unless you have positively identified a target. Monkeys, your task is to identify targets for volley fire. The artillery is to suppress the enemy position along the treeline. Rancor platoons . . ."

Jade froze and then his figure turned to look through his own commander's scope. The enemy was coming out. It was senseless. They had astral blasting positions. They were willingly putting themselves at the same disadvantage the Imperial vehicles were in.

Then Dusel got it. They were trying to rescue, or cover, the refugee column. They must have thought the walkers were there to massacre the refugees. I'm not a threat to civilians, am I? Again Dusel was startled by the enemy's apparent perception of the threat his walker posed. But High Colonel Jade did not waste time on moral philosophy. The enemy had just told them, frankly, where their values lay.

"_Everybody_," Jade called out from the imagecaster, "All walkers and fighting vehicles. Move forward _now!_ Full combat speed. Get in among the refugee traffic. Use the carts and landspeeders for cover. Blast smoke grenades and move _now._ All walkers back on line. _Now._"

Dusel's walker lurched forward as he worked the foot pedals. Malm triggered the loaded smoke grenade canisters while Dusel drove headlong into the rising puffs. The walker jounced and swayed wildly over the uneven field.

Beyond the thin screen of smoke, the column of abandoned landspeeders soon blocked the enemy's field of fire on the hovertanks and their cannons turned on the much taller walkers. Dusel looked quickly to the left and right, unsure how many walkers should be there now but satisfied with the grouping he saw. Quick armored 008 trooper fighting vehicles nosed their sharp prows in among the walkers, losing drill formation in the headlong rush for the expressway.

Monkey 9 stomped though an area of low ground from which the column of landspeeders on the built up roadway actually stood even with her cockpit. Then the walker slanted back upward as it charged up the roadway's raised slope, heading for the multicolored column of civilian vehicles.

The last drivers deserted their landspeeders, leaving doors wide open in their haste. Dusel's walker charged up over the berm of the roadway and stomped down on the pavement of the expressway. He only halted Monkey 9 after her left forefoot crushed a big white sedan flat.

The meadow beyond the roadway was filled with running figures, their bright clothing like confetti thrown over the green fields. The refugees splashed and waded toward their own forces. But now the tables had turned. The enemy tanks had lost the race to the roadway and they stood embarrassed in the open rice paddies, uncertain sentinels attempting to cover the near-human flood. Dusel could see the abo unit was weaker than his own after all, its vehicles scarred by combat and spread thinly across the long slope.

"_Get them_," a new voice filled the cockpit. Dusel looked over at the imagecaster and was surprised to see the squadron's Commissar, instead of the High Colonel, shouting at the walker crews. "Get them while they're in the open. Don't let them get away. Walker commanders, direct blasting." the shouting officer stated the obvious.

"Target," Wells said, moving into position behind his optics. "Range six zero zero meters."

"Six zero zero meters." Malm verified.

"Correct to six fifty. Select armor-piercing level."

"Six-fifty. Armor-piercing power level loaded."

"Blast." Wells ordered. He reached forward and put a steadying arm on Malm's shoulder. Dusel had never seen him do that before. It was something strange but he didn't have time for curiosity at the moment.

"On the way." Malm responded as his thumbs pushed down on his blasting stubs.

The floor of the cockpit rattled beneath Dusel's boots as the twin chin cannons opened up on their target, and an instant later an enemy tank jerked to a stop, lifting slightly like a man punched in the lower belly. The Chinese tank failed to explode but smoke began to flutter from its vents.

"Repeat target." The commander said almost sadly. "Six-fifty."

"Target fixed."

"Armor-piercing."

"Ready."

"Blast."

"On the way."

The cockpit rattled again and before it settled the enemy tank dazzled with sparks. A moment later its turret deck blew skyward. Magazine strike, Dusel thought. And he scanned the fields for another target for his crew.

His viewscreen found a changed scene. Most of the civilians had dropped in the thigh deep water or high grass, caught in the middle of the battle. Then Dusel saw one running group jerk in contorted positions and fall as plasma bolts struck around them. Someone had deliberately blasted them down.

"Commander, target." Malm reported.

Dusel saw the enemy tank his friend had indicated, lumbering down the slope as if to rescue the survivors. Its long cannon blasted above the bodies prostrate in the mud. It looked like a defiant, protective Bantha matriarch. Dusel understood, even sympathized with the commander of the enemy vehicle. The maneuver was as brave as it was suicidal. Wells fixed the target in their rangefinder.

The hyperwave had grown chaotic with a litany of calls. Dusel tuned them out until Monkey 9 had blasted on the lone, brave enemy tank. Two other walkers and a hovertank also blasted on it in quick succession and they managed a catastrophic kill. The enemy vehicle burned its wounded crew alive.

The surviving enemy vehicles had pulled back into the treeline and the supporting battery pounded their positions, forcing them back yet again. Once they were gone the blasting of cannons subsided very quickly. It had been a swift engagement, determined by the single factor of the Monkey Squadron beating the enemy to the expressway by less than a minute.

Dusel searched the horizon for any last targets but all of the visible enemy vehicles remained stationary and either ablaze or billowing smoke towards the rainclouds above. Dusel watched as lone civilians rose and ran up the hillside, only to be tossed about by bursts of E-11 bolts. Dusel watched as though the action was taking place on a holoimager. An alarm chimed on his control console and he snapped back to his senses.

"If they don't cease blasting, Gunner, you may blast the next trooper who blasts a civilian." Wells said quietly. Dusel turned, surprised, and saw a look of anguish and frustration across his his commander's normally stoic face. In the Gunner's chair, Malm sat tensed and unspeaking, staring straight ahead into his aiming sites.

"Sir?" Dusel said politely.

"Yes, Driver."

"Sir, we have a capacitor alarm in the left rear footpad. Nothing serious but I think I should check it out." Dusel reported.

"We should be establishing our position along the roadway here. Grab one of the Deck Chiefs and a blaster rifle and go check it out."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't waste a lot of time. There's no telling if those tracked hovertanks will come back."

Dusel stood and exited the cockpit. He found the lower Deck Chief, his buddy Luke, and secured a pair of blaster carbines for the two of them. He quickly told the young trooper what they were doing before they opened one of the belly hatches and secured themselves to the droplines. A powerful wind from below threatened to suck them out of the hatch before they were prepared and only a steady hand from the hatch gunners saved them both from falling to the roadway below.

They dropped rapidly, as much as to limit the time they were exposed underneath the walker to enemy slugthrower fire as to prevent themselves from flapping like Tooka dolls in the wind. Dusel dropped into the open air only to be greeted by choking black smoke. His helmet automatically began to seal itself but Luke, with his open faced helmet, was already coughing by the time they hit the roadway.

Sheets of rain water fell from the AT-AT's side like a roaring waterfall but did little to cleanse the air of the oily smoke. At first he thought his walker was on fire, that it had been hit without realizing it. Then he located the source of the smoke. A burning landspeeder stood just to one side of the walker's legs. The heat seared Dusel's skin through his body glove. His walker, already battered, wore a cloak of black soot on one side of her hull.

Hidden in the clouds of smoke the continuing din of small-arm blaster rifles alarmed Dusel. From what he had seen there was nothing nothing left at which to blast. But through the smoke there were still so many screams and the sound of blasting would not cease.

"Luke, change out that capacitor and then tell the Major I'm going to go check out what's going on."

"Sure thing, Corp. You want to go play in this rain it's your business but I'm getting high and dry as fast as I can." Luke smiled and headed back to the malfunctioning footpad. It was a one man job and would take the young trooper a matter of minutes to finish.

Dusel pulled his sidearm and pushed forward into the long line of wrecked landspeeders. Somewhere ahead of him, hidden by the smoke and rain, blaster rifles counted to sing out.

"Cease blasting! Cease Blasting!" Dusel shouted.

The blasting died down for a moment but then continued after the shooters were unable to discern who was yelling at them. He climbed over the rain-slick hood of a blue landspeeder. Nearby, a wounded canine growled at him as it bled out on the roadway. Spent tibanna cartridges littered the roadway. Dusel slid down off the landspeeder and trotted through the smoke in the direction of the greatest density of noise.

Countless landspeeders had taken bolts or had been wrecked in their last desperate attempts at flight. Between curtains of smoke islands of clarity revealed dead and badly wounded drivers and passengers, slumped over steering wheels or spilling from open doors. Dead civilians lay scattered about the roadway, some of them crushed. The flowered skirt of a heavily built, middle-aged woman flapped in the wind, and dropped high up the back of her sprawled legs.

Beyond the next drape of smoke, Dusel surprised a group of CompForce assault troopers with a girl. No officers or NCOs were present. The troopers had stripped off her skirt and underpants, leaving her clad only in a sweater, and they were teasing her, driving her screaming from one trooper to another. The girl wailed in terror and the troopers laughed. Whether or not she had ever been pretty, her fear had wrought her young face into a mask of revolting ugliness. Her wide eyes reminded Dusel of an animal that had been beaten almost to death but that still had enough spark of life remaining to want desperately to live.

The girl shrieked in an alien language and one of the troopers grabbed her sweater, tearing at it as she tried to break out of the circle.

Dusel blasted at the ground, putting the bolt very close to the girl's tormentor.

All of the troopers turned to face him and one of them even lifted his blaster rifle. As soon as they recognized an NCO they straightened, backing away from the girl as if it were only an accident that they had all been discovered in the same place. The trooper who had raised his blaster quickly lowered it.

"Scum," Dusel shouted at them. "You poodoo-eating scum. What do you think you're doing?"

"Following the Commissar's orders, Corporal." One of the troopers responded. "Eliminating all enemy resistance along this roadway."

"He couldn't have ordered this." Dusel waved his free arm at the girl.

"He did, Corporal, and you're hindering CompForce troopers from following their orders. We're not answerable to you, Armor barve." The talkative trooper responded.

Dusel cursed himself empty and then, when he could find no sensible words to express himself, a difficult silence enveloped them. He almost launched into an angry series of platitudes about their duty and mission and the trust of the Imperial stormtrooper but this was all much too immediately human and terrible for classroom platitudes.

Dusel shook his head in disgust. "You're answerable to this." He waved his blaster at them. "All of you. Get back to your vehicles. _Now._"

The troopers obeyed immediately. The one trooper hung back for a second. "We'll see what the Commissar has to say about this." he threatened. Dusel watched them go, weapon at the ready.

And yet . . . they were his fellow troopers. They had fought together and they would undoubtedly be forced to fight together again before the war ended for them.

Dusel turned to the girl, embarrassed more by what the troopers had done than by her charmless nakedness. He took care to look only at her face, which was red and wet and beyond the range of normal expression. She backed nervously against a smashed landspeeder, as though she expected Dusel to become her next tormentor.

"Go," Dusel said. "Get out of here. Your beings are up there." He pointed, wishing he could tell her in her language.

"Go," he barked. He did not know what else to do. There were still blasts and cries nearby and he had no doubt that his experience of what the CompForce was really like had not come to an end. He wanted to get away from here, away from this lost girl, but he was afraid to leave her alone.

The girl covered herself with her hands, tugging down the torn sweater in a hopelessly inadequate gesture. Dusel closed in on her and watched her fear grow but he had no time to waste. He grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her along so swiftly that she could not resist. He drew her to the edge of the expressway facing the now silent ridge line from where her would-be guardians had come. Another horror awaited him when he discovered a tumbled clutter of bodies in the drainage ditch by the roadway and trailing away from the raised berm.

By the Force what have we done?

"Go," Dusel ordered, pointing the way with his blaster pistol. Visibility was far too good despite the residue of battle smoke and the pouring rain. He worried that enemy airspeeders could descend on them at any moment and knew he needed to hurry back to Monkey 9 so the crew could get moving again.

He pushed the girl towards the enemy's hill. She just looked at him in fear and confusion. He pointed again and either the girl finally understood him or she obeyed what she perceived to be his desire. She began to pick her way down between the corpses. As her foot touched one of them the body moved with a life of its own and Dusel realized that there were likely many wounded along the column and out in the fields.

But he could not cope with that issue now. He had no med packs and he was supposed to be fulfilling a mission. He struggled to shut his mind to the welling visions.

"Hands up, scum." An electric voice ordered from out of the smoke. Dusel slowly raised his hands and turned around. Facing him were the half dozen CompForce troopers he had ordered away along with the Commissar from Monkey 1.

"Don't be stoopa. Drop the blaster." The talkative one said. Dusel threw the weapon aside. Two of the troopers moved around him with their blasters trained on his head. One of them bent down to retrieve his sidearm.

"Is this the trooper who stopped you?" The Commissar asked the CompForce trooper.

"Yes, sir. Drew his blaster on us and everything." The trooper reported.

Dusel felt a stinging fear start to grow in his throat. In the days of the Old Empire the ISB would have shot him out of hand for such a crime.

The Commissar studied Dusel for a moment. "You are an Imperial Army Pilot are you not? A driver or gunner of one of the walkers we have along this roadway at the moment."

"Yes, sir. Driver of Monkey 9. She's over that ways a bit." Dusel nodded in the general direction of his walker.

"Corporal, you are hereby charged with abandonment of your post, dereliction of your duty, aiding and abetting the escape of a prisoner under Imperial custody and hindering troopers in the lawful completion of Orders 37 through 39 of the contingency orders of the GAR, as well as conduct unbecoming a non-commissioned officer of the Imperial Army."

Dusel was confused. Weren't the old contingency orders thrown out with the Old Empire. He thought he remembered new ones being issued by Emperor Yos a few weeks ago.

"It is my duty to perform a summary field execution due to your crimes." The Commissar reported. The talkative trooper moved his E-11 menacingly towards Dusel. Dusel gasped and closed his eyes awaiting the bolt.

"However, the Theater Commander, in his wisdom, has ordered that all criminals in Imperial service be sent to Target West to await military tribunal."

"Sir, if I may . . ." Dusel wanted to plead his case or at least ask that the Commissar get in touch with Major Wells. Surely his commander could straighten this mess out.

"You may not. You have forfeited the right to say anything and you should consider yourself lucky that that is all you are forfeiting at the moment. Troopers, take him away."

The two troopers in back of him came forward. The one with his sidearm reached up and lowered Dusel's arms behind his back where he slapped a pair of stun cuffs around Dusel's wrists. As he did so he spun the AT-AT crewman towards the watery fields of corpses beside them.

He was pushed forward behind the cover of an abandoned landspeeder and watched the girl still trying to make her way across the rice paddy. She was a scrawny thing, little more than a youngling, and her naked behind looked like two stingy pouches of skin stuck onto a skeleton. As she worked her way up the far slope her half nakedness called up nothing in him but a sense of human weakness, of the miserable level to which all life was being reduced in this miserable war.

At the sound of a single blast the girl flung an arm into the air as if waving to someone in the distance and dark blood splashed from the hollow under her shoulder. An instant later she collapsed, disappearing under the shallow water of the flooded field.


	66. Diathim

**Regent's Suite, Mars Imperial Palace, Culter City, Imperial Mars**

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Emperor Yos greeted the new day with an ache and a stiffness in his bones that alluded to his collected years. Age was the greatest traitor a body would ever know, he believed. He stretched and felt a pop in his shoulder as he lifted his arms. He took a deep breath and swung his legs off the side of his sleeper.

The bed chamber itself was cavernous, especially since he had long ago grown accustomed to cramped quarters through his decades-long service in one navy after another. He snorted when he recalled his time as an ensign aboard a Denonian Judiciary Force Frigate, when he had had to share his bunk with two other young officers. The three of them had used it in shifts, he remembered fondly, and that one episode when the galley had served those gamor beans, he smiled at the memory.

As they did every morning, his personal valet and steward, as well as several other servants, awaited him along the wall near the entrance. For the sake of propriety he had made sure he was attended to by the pair of males rather than the small army of handmaidens his daughter used. If he hadn't he was sure the HoloNews would be labeling him "Yos the Lecher" by the evening news cycle.

He stood up and walked to a padded chair while motioning to a nearby butler to bring him a cup of caf. The servant already had the beverage hot and waiting on a silver tray. Another servant turned on the morning HoloNews channel on the room's large holoprojector. A cheerful pair of anchors was in the midst of a report on the _StarGate_ exploratory vessel.

The dual disasters of Earth 2 and the loss of the _Eradicate_ were finally starting to fade from the lead stories these days. The genocidal murder of the Morseerian and Skakoan species had shown how barbarous the Terrans truly were and had introduced one of their words into the Galactic Basic Standard lexicon: Holocaust.

The HoloNews anchor, a male Mon Cal, was reporting that a trio of civilian hyperspace scouts had rendezvoused with the scouting vessel several hours ago. Yos had been informed about it the night before. He had been disappointed that it hadn't been an operation by the Navy and had been sorely tempted to dispatch a Star Destroyer to bring back the misguided trio but in the end he had decided to see how it would play out. Word was one of them was about to attempt a blind hyperspace jump towards Epsilon Eridani, the _StarGate's_ final destination. If he was successful the Empire could land colonists within the week instead of sometime next year. The scout would either be hailed a hero or a fool and Yos wished him well.

"Your Majesty, I have laid out your formal Naval uniform for today's briefing." His valet said, gesturing to a nearby table where his white Admiral's uniform was laid out for him. The shoulders were covered in fine aurodium braided epaulettes and half of the jacket's breast was covered in highly polished medals from the Clone Wars.

"Very fine. You gentlebeings should remember today. Today will be a turning point like we have never seen in our time in the Milky Way." Yos said, sipping his caf.

"Your Majesty?" His steward inquired.

Yos couldn't tell them what he meant, of course. If he had word would have spread across the palace in time for lunch and across the capital by dinner.

He had found the Home Galaxy. The home they had been castaways from for almost three years now. He would disclose this only to the highest echelon of his command, starting with the day's Regent's Council with his top military and civilian advisers.

He feared that if he didn't stay on top of the information it would gain a life of its own. His Moffs may argue amongst themselves here on Mars but when shown the way home, would some of them break away from his fledgling Empire? Seco would certainly see the route home as an opportunity to exact revenge upon Vader after the Dark Lord had nearly crippled him on Kashyyyk after the last war. That was especially true now that Vulnert had a fleet of his own to rival the Dark Lord's. Phasma had been warning him for weeks now that Moff Seco was acting suspicious. He wondered if perhaps he should start paying more attention to the Ploo Moff's ambitions. The war was certainly taking longer than anyone had anticipated; maybe Seco needed a reminder of where his attention should be focused.

Moff Culter had gone on and on, begging for a free hand in terraforming the rest of the system. He had been furious over the Earth 2 debacle and had done everything he could to insinuate the blame onto Yos's shoulders. The Anoat Moff had been none too subtle that he felt space exploration was moving too slow. There wasn't much Yos had been able to do about it given _Tarkin's Fist's_ initial shortages of hypermatter, but now that the essential fuel was coming onto the civilian market Culter was irked that the military had been given such priority. Yos hoped that the hyperlane scouts out by the _StarGate_ would ease Culter's ire.

On the other hand, Yos had believed Kuat to be content here on Mars with his head buried in the sands of discovery and scientific research. But Yos's sources in intelligence had started reporting that the so-called Kuat of Kuat was regretting the abandonment of his son in the Home Galaxy. The elder Kuat had left his offspring a quadrillionaire as head of KDY, yet he was still under Palpatine's thumb. Yos couldn't have imagined leaving Phasma behind when they had been ordered into the maw and wondered what the old Kuati was contemplating up in his orbital offices in the Martian Dockyards.

A worry for tomorrow, he told himself.

He turned to his steward. "Please, inform the officer of the deck to send a squad of guardsmen to escort Daggibus Nalas to the palace. The old string puppet will escort me to the briefing in a few hours." He said referring to the Givin astrocartographer who had located the Home Galaxy under Yos's orders. The two of them were currently the only two who knew of its existence and Yos desired the Givin's presence to explain the details of its discovery.

The steward spoke quietly into his comlink.

Yos set his drink down on the platter and the butler whisked it away. He leaned back in his seat which had been brought to him from the conquest on Earth. The back of the chair reclined and there was a lever on the side to make part of the bottom lift up to raise the legs. Someone had told him it was dubbed a La-Z-Boy. His valet came forward and began spreading shaving cream on Yos's face. An Imperial Guardsmen circled behind the servant as the man sharpened his razor. A single misstep and it would be the valet's last.

When he had become Emperor at first he had thought it a bit much, all the security precautions. Now they were second nature to him. They were something that would be necessary in the days ahead if his Empire was to survive its first years. Who knew what the future held? Perhaps by this time next month he would have Mars to himself while the rest of _Tarkin's Fist_ sailed as fast as they could for the maw.

He tried putting his worries aside as his valet began his shave but it was difficult. His concerns kept crashing into his mind like an errant frigate inside an asteroid field.

Thinking of the hazards of the void soothed him. He thought of the explorers who were with the _StarGate_ and how if one scout succeeded with blazing a hyperspace lane today the Empire would have another colony tomorrow.

The 1st Martian Empire would know no boundaries.

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**Captain's Quarters, **_**Imperial I**_**-class SD **_**Insertion**_**, Equatorial Orbit, Earth**

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"The wrath of the Empire knows no boundaries." Eritech remembered the maxim that had been drilled into his subconscious during his early training with the ISB.

He thought about vengeance as he scraped a razor across the stubble that covered his face. He had only shaved once or twice before in his life, believing it a vice of traditionalist archaics. He much preferred depil: slather on, slather off, and you wouldn't have to touch your face again for a week. But today he was going to meet with the Emperor of Mars and he wouldn't allow his appearance to be that of one who had just stepped out of the fresher.

Behind him stood Signe, Commander Eiryn, or the Ice Queen of the _Insertion_ if you were brave enough to talk about her behind her back. She held out a towel for him to wipe the razor on, watching him in silence while he concentrated on his task. From time to time he flicked a critical eye to her reflection to appraise her appearance. Her uniform was impeccable, as usual. Her part in the day's mission included accompanying him to the bowels of the enemy's lair: the _Quill_.

Eritech applied the tiniest amount of pressure to the razor's handle. A sharp jab of pain pricked his neck. He reached up with his free hand and felt the spot where the blade had nicked his skin. When he pulled his fingers away they were spotted with his blood.

"Bacta?" Eiryn asked.

"No, let it scab over." He took the towel from her and dabbed the wound until it stopped bleeding. "What is the ship's status?"

"We've taken on the last of the officers who will be accompanying us to the Emperor's briefing and the helm has reported that we should be leaving the orbital siege lines momentarily. They are expecting arrival over Mars in two hours." She reported.

"How many officers did we take aboard?" he asked.

"Sixteen, a good mix between the Army and the Navy. The scum are all too lazy to fly their shuttles back to Mars. They all would rather hitch a ride with us. None of them are Seco's men, of course."

"I would hope not. It wouldn't help the cause to have any of Seco's loyalists in attendance when we carry out our mission." Eritech observed. "Still it gives us the excuse we needed to sail the _Insertion_ right up to the _Quill._ It should make our getaway all the easier."

Eritech rinsed the razor off in the fresher's sink. He was so close to fulfilling his ultimate duty to the true Emperor, Palpatine, he could almost taste it. Years of specialized training worked overtime to keep his emotions in check. Nothing would stop him now. Nothing.

He recalled with simmering rage how Admiral Neptu had stayed his hand last time they had attempted to assassinate the usurper. The Ploo Admiral would not be present today for the Emperor's briefing. Operational control was firmly in Eritech's hands, as was the trust of Moff Seco. Eritech had watched his own status rise over the past weeks amongst the conspirators while the corpulent Neptu was further and further marginalized.

"Hand me my tunic." He ordered Eiryn, who set aside the towel. She grabbed the gray, double-breasted garment and handed it to him.

As he pulled the dress uniform over his frame, never once did his eyes leave his appearance in the mirror. Everything on the uniform was meticulously in order, from his rank squares to his code cylinders. He placed his cover upon his head and straightened it.

"You look simply stunning, darling." Eiryn said.

Eritech simply nodded in response. Even her beauty wasn't enough to distract him today.

Today Emperor Aveo Yos would die at his hands. The true Emperor would have his revenge.

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**Emperor's Parlor, Mars Imperial Palace, Culter City**

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Yos scarfed down several Nilluk strips before diving into his large Ho'Din-style veggie omelet. Today was going to be long and he knew he would need the protein. A servant came forward and replenished his steaming cup of caf.

At the other end of the long table stood his liaison officer with the Bureau of Operations, Lieutenant Commander Knebler, present this morning to give him his daily brief. The intelligence officer had arranged several small holoprojectors across the table. They displayed a multitude of maps and data charts that represented the day-to-day goings on of his Empire. Yos ignored most of them, choosing to focus on the center holoimage of the three scout ships currently in formation with the _StarGate _beyond the Sol System's Oort cloud_._ One of those three hyperlane scouts was about to make history.

"The CCG suspects another one of these 'peace assemblies' is going to take place on the campus of the Kuati Research Academy this afternoon. They are requesting extra riot troopers to deal with it."

"Inform the Commissioner that I don't want this to get out of hand. If the students can maintain a peaceful assembly then that should be fine. The HoloNews would have a field day if one of the Culter City Guard was caught on holocam harming a student." Yos said. "Tell him he's to keep the series-500 Riot Guns at home."

"Understood, your Majesty. I'll let Jord'dan' know that it's to be electrostaffs and stun batons only. We also have reports that this so-called 'Father George' is going to hold another prayer meeting somewhere in the Ison Corridor Commercial Sector this morning. It's estimated to be several times larger than the last one on the riverfront a few days ago. It's presumed that he will be calling for a cease-blast with the Earth, as he has done at previous gatherings. The CCG has extra officers in the area and are attempting to bring him in for questioning."

"And they still have no idea who he is or where he came from?" Yos asked. This preacher had been stirring up religious sentiment amongst the freed slave population of Culter City for several weeks now. Nothing overt had come of it so far but the man who led the movement was an enigma, appearing out of nowhere and testifying for a new morality worship that went against most of the tenets of the Empire and the Old Republic.

"No, but we have identified this 'Lord Jesus' he supposedly works for. He's evidently an Earth deity of some sort who lived a couple of millennia ago. We didn't notice it until one of our intel techs was performing a search on the captured internet code the Terrans use. Our agent was able to uncover hundreds of thousands of websites dedicated to conflicting stories about the man." Knebler said.

"Man or deity? Back in the Home Galaxy every few years there would come stories out of Wild Space or the Unknown Regions of some 'miraculous' wizard or shaman that had set himself up as a god on some backrocket world. They'd usually would turn out to be some lost Jedi, or what not, who was using the Force to impress the local girls. I'm betting that's what this Jesus was." Yos said. He wondered if Palpatine ever had to deal with religious upstarts back in the Old Empire. Probably not, not when you had someone like Vader at your side.

"That's the theory that Captain Yutu has us working on. He is concerned with how this Father George came about such intimate knowledge of an Earth-based religious movement." Knebler reported.

"Could be a disgruntled prison guard from Camp 1138 or maybe one of the Moffs' men. We let them have undisputed access to the Terran network before the war. It's been a boon for discoveries and intelligence but it was probably only a matter of time before it bit us in the shebs." Yos wondered why the alleged leader of this Jesus cult was unknown by Imperial identification methods. "You don't suppose he's one of those 'rebels' Emperor Palpatine was always going on and on about, do you?"

"That would explain the use of an alias. George is a strange name. The only record of its use in the Home Galaxy is among the Gungans."

Yos suddenly remembered the great secret of his daughter's identity. "Of which there are none living on Mars, nor did any of the Naboo make the 'big jump' along with _Tarkin's Fist_."

"As you say, your Majesty. However we do have examples of its use amongst the Terrans."

"Then you should be under the assumption that this man has had some contact with the captured labor units we are using. Concentrate your efforts there and bring this 'Father George' in as soon possible."

"Your Majesty," The Majordomo of the palace interrupted the discussion from the parlor's entrance, "You wanted to be informed when Daggibus Nalas arrived at the palace. His eminence is awaiting you in the south atrium."

"Very good. Bring him in and offer him some breakfast."

"As you wish, your Majesty." The servant said as he bowed and left the room.

"Anything else to report, Commander?" Yos sent him a look that said there had better not be. Yos was excited to break the news that he shared with the Givin Astrocartographer.

"No, sire. News from Earth is the same. The new defensive line has been established outside Target West," Yos sneered at the news. It was embarrassing that the Imperial Army had been set back on its heels due to a flooding river. "And despite heavy fighting our Legions continue to push forward into Las Vegas."

"Wizard. Will you be attending the briefing later on?" Yos asked before taking a sip of his caf.

"Captain Yutu is still serving his suspension from the Earth 2 incident and has asked me to inquire that he and his staff be excused, your Majesty. Fleet Intelligence is close to a break through with the hunt for President Harris." Knebler said.

Yos couldn't think of a more fitting task for them to be working on. He and Moff Seco were convinced the only thing hindering the Terran surrender was this President of theirs. "Very well. Seco is sending a contingent of officers aboard the _Insertion_ later today. We should have a good crowd. "

"At your leave, your Majesty." Knebler snapped to attention at the foot of the table and whipped off a crisp salute.

Yos returned a half-hearted salute in return as he shoveled into his mouth a fork-full of panna cakes with his free hand. "Dismissed."

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**Officer's Mess, ****_Imperial-_****class SD ****_Insertion,_**** North Luna Pass Trajectory, inbound to Mars**

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Eritech could feel their eyes upon him from across the mess deck. The sixteen officers they had taken aboard sipped their cafs and stuffed their traitorous faces with bantha biscuits. They talked quietly amongst themselves, occasionally sending a glance towards his table.

Eritech did not need to hear them to know what they were talking about. They called him Volt the Butcher when they didn't think he would overhear them. He didn't mind. It was a reputation well earned. After all, he had been the one who ordered his turbolasers turned on that sprawling refugee camp back on Earth. Nobody knew how many for sure but it was estimated that his gunners had murdered between four and six million of the pathetic earthlings in the span of a couple of minutes.

The earthlings had been even more flattering. Intelligence had intercepted enemy broadcasts offering a billion of their version of credits for the head of the officer responsible for the 'Camp Chicago Massacre'. They had even broadcast ground-based high resolution holopics of the _Insertion_, knowing full well which ship in the Maw Defense Fleet had blasted upon their 'innocent civilians'.

Eritech didn't care if he angered the earthlings. He was well out of their reach. And he cared not if those officers across the mess found him repellant. Their opinions would matter for nothing when Operation _Diathim_ initiated in a few hours' time. He hadn't even received so much as a slap on the wrist from the Theater Commander nor from the usurper Yos for his actions.

"Let's go over the contingencies once again." He said in a low voice to the few officers at his table. They leaned forward so that their voices didn't carry.

"The idiot's array in the deck is probably the Imperial Guard." Commander Eiryn said. "Moff Seco has reported that he was unable to place any of our agents within their ranks. If the Guardsmen are somehow able to get Yos under their protection and the device is unsuccessful in taking his life we will have no option but surrender."

"That won't happen. Because of the location of the meeting every being in that room should be defenestrated as soon as the blast wave disintegrates the viewport." One of Eritech's loyal officers assumed.

"True. However, there will be a period where control will be fluid. The Imperial Guard can supersede all communication on Mars and it is in their operational protocols to immediately cut all comm as soon as an assassination or coup attempt takes place against the Emperor." Eiryn replied.

"This is why Seco is monitoring the _Quill_ closely. We will have no hyperwave signal in place once the Imperial Guard start their jamming. He will then issue orders for _Diathim_ to commence while he maneuvers to take full control of the fleet. Once this is done he will succor the loyalty of the armies dirtside. _Diathim_ is very clear. Once the order is given the Home Legion and the Culter City Guard will automatically seize control of the government with or without us or the Imperial Guard. Action is inevitable, as are the consequences." Eritech said.

"And what will the _Insertion_ be doing while the Theater Commander wraps up things on Earth?" an officer asked.

"The _Insertion_ will stay on station above Culter City. Officially to render aide to the crippled flagship and help maintain order on Mars during this transitional period." Eritech said.

"And unofficially?"

"We will be seizing the driveyards and holding any orbital starships hostage with our heavy blasters. We still have much of the Subterrel Squadron spread around the system and we will be letting them know whose orders to follow as they arrive around the capital world. Our main purpose will be maintaining contact with our loyal ground forces despite the Imperial Guard's blackout." Eritech said.

"What if the _Quill's_ not crippled?"

"A possibility that is too miniscule to even consider. Yos and his lackey Captain Nake will both be present at the meeting on the _Quill's_ Flag Bridge. That area of their ship is directly over their battle bridge. Our engineers have assured us that a blast in that area would destroy both sections, thereby decapitating them right at the start. Anyone in those areas when the device goes off is not coming out alive." Eiryn replied. She sent him a worried smile. It was a possibility they truly hadn't discussed.

"Do you have any orders for us regarding the ship's disposition during your absence?" The head of navigation asked.

"No. Under no circumstances are you to prematurely initiate anything until I return to the ship. My shuttle's arrival should coincide with the device's activation. During that time I want the ship to stand down. Keep the men near their stations but don't power up the shields or the turbolasers while we are next to the _Quill._ Is that understood?" Eritech didn't want to tip his sabacc to the _Quill's_ crew before they were ready.

"Yes, sir." They replied in unison. Still whispering less they be overheard.

"We all swore an oath to the Empire, the true Empire and the true Emperor. We have lived for far too long with these traitors and criminals. Seco has given us a means to finally fulfill that oath." Eritech balled up his fist and hit his thigh. For far too long had he been denied his vengeance. "For the Emperor."

"For the Emperor." they chanted.

"Gentlebeings, this is the most important day of your lives. Long live sacred Palpatine."

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**Royal Shuttle Landing Pads, Mars Imperial Palace**

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After decades in the service of the Denonian Judiciary Fleet, The Republic Navy and finally the Imperial version, Yos was used to life's little delays. And so it was as he sat on the veranda overlooking the _Theta-_class T-2c shuttle that was being repaired below him.

Beside him on the balcony sat Daggibus Nalas. The Givin sipped quietly on a cup of Tarine Tea served in the new "Terran Style" of adding ice to the beverage. The new fashion had been sweeping the capital since the beginning of the Martian summer a few months ago. Yos blamed Intelligence's access to the Earth's internet for the concoction's introduction to his Empire but had to admit the drink was refreshing. He was halfway through his own glass and signaled for the steward to refill the beverage.

The _Theta_ had a busted crystal oscillator that was being replaced by several ground crew. They had told him it would take thirty minutes to fix and offered to bring out his back-up shuttle from the Royal Hanger. Yos had told them not to bother, as he had things to discuss with Nalas, and as the Emperor it wouldn't seem fitting to be the first to arrive to his own meeting. Regents and monarchs were required to be fashionably late to everything, he had discovered.

"It certainly is a pleasant day. Almost thirty five degrees if I had to guess." Yos leaned across his Kesslerite lounging chair and told his guest.

"Three four point four standard, to be precise, your Majesty." Daggibus replied matter-of-factly. "The new magnetosphere is currently operating at eighty-nine percent Curoscant Standard and gravitational fields have been increased to point nine seven percent g of Coruscant Standard. Culter has done an astral job with this world, so you are correct in stating that the day is much more appealing than has been the case over the past few years."

"Yes, though Culter never did get the temperature on this world to every being's liking. And we're still trying to get the Nitrogen and pressure levels fine-tuned. But we're a long way from the sub-zero temperatures this planet was accustomed to before our arrival." Yos momentarily wondered why he hadn't heard from the Anoat Moff in a few days. The terraformer usually berated his office with requests throughout the week. Where did that old fool get himself off to now, Yos wondered?

"Too true. I remember learning that Coruscant was actually much colder than everyone thought. It seemed the presence of a world-spanning kilometer-high ecumenopolis with a trillion permanent citizens had heated the capital of the Home Galaxy by almost fifteen degrees standard, even without the assistance of terraformers."

Yos got a faraway look in his eyes as he remembered the sun-bathed beauty of Imperial Center. It was a sight that had never failed to take his breath away. It was the world he had first seen Padme on, a world his daughter, Phasma, would, sadly, never lay her eyes on. But thanks to Nalus, a world that would no longer be lost to them, and if they ever found each other again the beings of Coruscant would know the name of Yos.

A junior officer appeared at the entrance to the veranda. He came to attention and saluted Yos. "Pardon the interruption, your Majesty. I have news from the hyperscouts that rendezvoused with the _StarGate._"

Yos turned in his chair towards the officer. Intrigue spilled over his features. "What has happened, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, the three hyperscouts completed their delivery of hypermatter to the exploratory vessel about twenty standard minutes ago. Without asking for permission the three of them performed blind hyperspace jumps in the direction of Epsilon Eridani." The officer reported.

Yos clapped his hands together and held them in front of him in excitement. Ah, to be young and reckless again, he thought. "Any idea on when or if we'll know they are successful?"

"Captain Dual ordered me to inform you that he estimates that their independent jumps will cover the ten point five light years to their destination in twenty-eight minutes. Once there the first scout will hyperwave his success back to Mars."

"And for how much will the scoundrel blackmail us for his nav coordinates and jump points?"

"There was a negotiation before the jumps. Captain Dual agreed upon an amount of twenty-five million credits for a maintainable hyperspace lane."

Yos did some figuring in his head. It was a reasonable price to cut nearly a year of subliminal travel off of the _StarGate's_ cruise and to enable the next colony ship to be launched sometime within the week. "Pay it. Whoever makes it there first is going to be a stang hero on the HoloNews, might as well make him a rich hero. Once you have the hyperlane coordinates send them to the _StarGate._ I want that vessel in orbit around Epsilon Eridani this afternoon. Have Captain Dual inform me of any unexpected developments. He will be at the meeting today, won't he?"

"Yes, your Highness. He said to tell you he wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent." Yos said and dismissed the officer. With news of the establishment of a new extra-system colony, it would closely tie many thousands more of his beings to this Milky Way Galaxy. He hoped that this would cause the news of the discovery of the Home Galaxy to be viewed with either isolationist or passive feelings.

"I hesitate to offer my congratulations even though I do hope those brave hyperscouts are as successful as they are stoopa. I have studied the Eridani system alongside my fellow astrocartographers. The system harbors an extensive outer debris disk of remnant planetesimals as well as two separate belts of asteroids. Those would be tricky to navigate even under sublight drives. I personally give odds of only one of the three hyperscouts living through the next hour." Daggibus stated nonchalantly as he sipped on his iced tea.

"One is all we need. That scout will be hailed as a hero and the HoloNews will quickly forget the other two. All the _StarGate_ needs is the coordinates for one hyperlane, after all. It's a shame we have to go into orbit today. I would much rather stay closer to Fleet Command in order to monitor the situation." Yos sighed.

"Why don't you then, your Majesty?" Daggibus suggested. "You are the Emperor, after all. Might I suggest the meeting be moved to Tarkin's Tower. It is a pleasant day here on Mars. It would be a shame to miss out on it."

"Yes, yes it would."

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**Command Bridge, ****_Insertion_****, Martian Equatorial Orbit approach**

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"What do you mean, 'moved'?" Eritech growled.

"Sir, that is what the flash comm said. Any officer attending the Regent's Council is to report to the alternate venue at the Emperor's Council Chamber atop Tarkin's Tower." The deck officer stammered.

Eritech and Eiryn exchanged nervous looks. Things were starting to go awry.

"This was also sent from the _Wilderness_ to the Home Legion and the Culter City Guard a few minutes ago." The deck officer handed Eritech a flimsiplast with a FleetOps order inscribed across it. "**AAC.** **Stand by for commencement of Operation **_**Diathim."**_

Eritech closed his eyes for a moment to think. He tried to recall the details of the Emperor's Council Chamber. It was circular, and arranged around a central bank of large holoprojectors with big, form-fitting seats around them. Most importantly it had transpiristeel walls. No, wait, were they glass? Wouldn't glass just blow out and release the murderous blast wave? He didn't know. It wasn't ideal but this obstacle only strengthened his resolve. He was an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau and no operation goes according to plan. He opened his eyes.

"Do we abort?" Eiryn asked.

"No. We perform our duty to the true Emperor."

"But what about Seco? He will be watching for the _Quill_ to be damaged before initiating his part of the plan. We won't even be aboard the flagship now." She said.

Eritech addressed the deck officer. "Bring us into orbit alongside the _Quill._ Drop shields but maintain the sublight drive engines on standby power. I don't want to arouse suspicion."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"And have the crew man their stations." Eritech said. The deck officer signaled a sailor in the crew pit. An instant later the General Quarters alarm was ringing out through the ship.

"Commander Eiryn, if you would accompany me to the hanger. I believe we have a date with Emperor Yos."

"It would be my pleasure." She purred.

Eritech picked up the valise with the device inside. Eiryn eyed the valise and subconsciously he pulled it away from her gaze. This was his burden and he trusted no one else with it. He turned and led the way off of the bridge.

Eritech and Eiryn traveled to the hanger bay in silence. The security agent was too focused on his mission to be distracted by chatter at this point. Eiryn could tell he was lost in his thoughts and let him be.

They boarded his shuttle, a _Lambda-_class T4c designed and built completely on Mars. The other attending officers were already onboard, awaiting his arrival. Save for a few cursory greetings the trip passed in silence. The shuttle vibrated slightly as it entered the Martian atmosphere. Eritech glanced outside his viewport and noticed the sky was much bluer than the last time he had visited the planet.

It was Culter's doing no doubt. Culter was currently a guest of Moff Seco, who had secretly detained the other Moff to prevent him from attending today's meeting. Eritech wondered on whose side the Anoat Moff would fall once the sabacc was played.

The pilot circled the ever-growing capital in a slow landing pattern around the Ares Vallis. Eritech smiled when he noted how peaceful Culter City looked from above, so oblivious of the chaos that would be unleashed this afternoon.

"Two minutes to landing, sirs and ma'am." The shuttle's steward announced.

Eiryn put her hand to her ear, where she wore a tiny comlink. Her face fell and he could tell she was worried about whatever news she was receiving. She put her hand down and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Our man at Tarkin's Tower has reported that the Princess won't be attending the briefing with her father."

"I wouldn't worry about her. Moff Seco has assured me he has something special planned for the Heir to the Empire." Eritech smiled very slightly. He had been included in the hiring of a special team of Loag assassins and their unique handler for just this sort of detail. Seco was adamant that the entire House of Yos be removed from the playing field by the time that _Diathim_ was complete. And by Palpatine's grace it would be, Eritech vowed.

The shuttle landed amongst a crowded docking pad halfway up the side of the skyscraping tower. Eritech was one of the last ones to leave his transport. He recognized the ship markings on command shuttles from around the fleet and various civilian offices of _Tarkin's_ _Fist_ scattered across the landing pad. Flight crews idled about and chatted as they waited for their charges to return from the briefing. The heat today was oppressive, Eritech noted, and he tried to recall if Mars had been this hot on previous visits. Eritech didn't spot the Royal Shuttle anywhere and assumed that the Emperor must be on his way.

There was a security checkpoint at the entrance to the tower manned by troopers from the Home Legion. The small unit was led by a young Army Lieutenant who relieved the group of their sidearms as they entered the building. Eritech and Eiryn surrendered their personal weapons, relieved that the troopers ignored the valise that Eritech carried. They quickly passed through the entrance and into the much cooler air of Fleet Command's headquarters.

Once inside they took a turbolift up to the conference chamber. As he exited the lift Eritech was greeted by crowded room of military officers and civilian executives who were milling about, waiting to pass through another checkpoint, this time manned by the Imperial Guard. Drinks were being served by several enlisted men. Eritech waved one of them off when he approached with a tray of beverages.

"Ah, Captain Volt."

Eritech turned to see who was addressing him. He was surprised to be facing Captain Nake, commander of the _Quill_ and one of _Diathim's_ chief targets, sipping a cup of caf with several other officers. As Captain of the flagship of the Subterrel Squadron, Nake was Volt's immediate superior. Eritech saluted.

"Gentlemen, may I present Captain Tolos Volt, Commander of the _Insertion._"

Several eyes went wide and Eritech could tell the officers were thinking of his notorious actions over Earth. Only one of them offered his hand. Eritech shook it, not wanting them to think he was ashamed. "Captain Volt. It is an honor. They say you're the officer who will defend the Empire from the abos almost single handedly."

Eritech smiled and raised the valise with his free hand. "Indeed, I've got the whole bag of tricks right here."

The officers laughed nervously, relieved that he wasn't insulted. Idiots, Eritech thought. Another officer approached. Eritech recognized him as Major Figh of the _Quill_ and another trusted Yos man. He had acted as a personal secretary to Yos at several past briefings. Major Figh saluted and then reached for the handle of Eritech's valise.

"Let me take that for you, sir." Figh said.

Eritech snapped the case back causing Figh to raise a suspicious eyebrow. But before he could press he was interrupted.

"Captain Volt?" Eritech and Figh turned to find Captain Charge, one of the three Directors of the Bureau of Operations, standing at the door. Everyone quickly came to attention.

"At ease, Gentlebeings." Charge said to the room and then walked over to Eritech. "Captain Charge, Supply, Refit, and Training. I just wanted to meet the Hero of the _Insertion._ If there is anything you need . . ."

"Yes, sir, there is. I'm expecting a commo of the utmost importance. Even if it comes while I am in conference with the Emperor I'd appreciate it if you had a man come and get me."

There was a long pause as Eritech and Charge shared a look of understanding. Moff Seco had spent a lot of time and expense bringing this particular officer into their conspiracy.

"Of course, Captain." Charge nodded and turned to leave. Eritech and Eiryn saluted as Charge departed.

Just then Nake called for everyone's attention at the entrance to the chamber. "Ladies and Gentlebeings, the Emperor will be arriving momentarily. If you would all enter the briefing chamber at this time, please."

Nake then made a beeline for the entrance and passed through the line of blue Imperial Guardsmen. The rest of the gathering followed like the good nerf they were. Eritech hung back, though, which attracted Major Figh's attention. The Major gave him an inquisitive look; with the Emperor's imminent arrival now was not the time to dawdle.

"I need a place to wash up, change my tunic." Eritech pointed to the shaving cut on his throat and the tiny bloodstain on his uniform.

Figh was obviously annoyed but motioned to an adjoining anteroom. "Please, do be quick. You heard Captain Nake."

Eritech nodded in appreciation and motioned for Eiryn to follow him. Figh was watching him with a curious expression. Hopefully the fool was only thinking he was attempting a quick and inappropriate dalliance with his beautiful adjutant.

Fast on his heels Eiryn shut and fastened the manual lock on the door. On the wall of the room a portrait of Yos and Palpatine, obviously wishful thinking on the part of the artist, stared down at him. Eritech positioned himself with his back to the door He opened the valise and carefully removed the glowing blue orb of the unactivated proton bomb.

"You are arming it now?" Eiryn whispered.

Eritech quickly removed his tunic and took a new one out of the valise. He redressed himself as Eiryn assembled the fuse. "No room for error this time. Set it for ten minutes standard."

Eiryn looked at him for an explanation as she handed him the device.

"Two minutes for the walk, one for the security check and one to the chamber. Three minutes for the walk back. That's seven." He said.

"Leaving just three minutes to place the bomb."

"Plenty of time." He carefully placed the fuse into the bomb.

The chiming of a comlink outside the door startled him. Someone was outside the door. A voice answered the comlink and spoke to someone on the other line. "Major Figh speaking . . .Volt? Yes, he's arrived . . . They are on their way now."

Neatly dressed again, Eritech carefully placed the active bomb back inside the case and moved to close the lid.

Bang.

The door swung suddenly open but was stopped short by Eritech's backside, causing him to nearly drop the valise. The lid dropped just as the door impacted.

"Stang it, man. What is it?" Eritech turned to face Major Figh who held the key to the room and was trying to peer past Eritech. Eritech hid the valise with his body.

"Captain Nake insists that the Captain please hurry."

Eiryn went out, moving Figh back with her body. The movement gave Eritech just enough time to latch the silver valise close. He stepped out of the anteroom and faced Figh and Eiryn. Seeing that Volt was indeed on his way Figh scurried to find Captain Nake in the Briefing Chamber.

Eritech and Eiryn lagged behind. "See that the shuttle is ready." Eritech whispered.

Eiryn raised her hand to her ear and quickly spoke to their shuttle crew. She was not needed at the meeting and turned away, heading back to the landing docks. Figh paused at the security checkpoint and motioned eagerly for Eritech to pick up the pace.

Figh reached for the valise. "Please, let me help you with that."

Eritech pulled it away. "I can manage, thank you."

Figh must have been peeved but Eritech didn't care. He focused on the chamber ahead as he mentally calculated the time he had left. The Chamber seemed kilometers away.

There was a diminishing crowd at the security checkpoint as beings filed through the heavily guarded entrance. Each being held up their code cylinder for the guardsmen to inspect. Eritech was the last one.

"Sir, your valise. I insist." Figh said. Eritech was annoyed but didn't want to arouse anymore suspicion and finally acquiesced and handed it over. He watched nervously as Figh carried it into the Chamber.

Eritech looked back over his shoulder to spot Captain Charge standing by the turbolifts. The man had other duties to perform today, duties that didn't come from the Emperor. He would get Eritech out of the briefing, hopefully before the bomb went off. They shared a nod. Then Eritech stepped into the Chamber.

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**Emperor's Council Chamber, 155****th**** Level, ****_Tarkin's Fist_**** Command, Tarkin's Tower**

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Emperor Yos was irritated. Where the fierfek were the stang Moffs, he wondered?

He looked around the crowded briefing chamber, making eye contact with his old friends, Captain Nake and General Patreous of the 395th Legion. He mentally checked them off of the list of essential personnel he had wanted to attend this briefing. Daggibus Nalas's presentation was not to be missed.

Of the governors, only Moff Seco had a credible excuse as far as Yos could discern. The duties of Theater Commander over Earth precluded the Ploo Moff from attending. He blamed inept absent-mindedness for the other two's nonattendance. No doubt they had lost themselves in some sort of scientific endeavor or another. The Emperor wondered if his two scientific-leaning Moffs were over-burdening themselves.

The Directors of the Bureau of Operatons were only slightly better. Captain Dual was present and quietly conferring with a hierophant from the Bureau of Ships and Services. But Yos knew for a fact the Captains Charge and Yutu were within the capital today. He grimaced when he realized that not one of his three admirals were present, either.

He made a mental note to speak with them after this conference. If he was to be the supreme ruler of this new Galaxy then he must have the absolute obedience of his underlings. He knew what Palpatine would have done in his place.

An admiral or two would have to go, as well as at least one of the Directors. He wondered if he shouldn't consider getting rid of a Moff. It would have to be done on the sly and appear as an accident since all three governors led powerful factions within the Empire. Hopefully their influence would wane significantly before his daughter took the throne.

Officers were still coming into the room. Well, I guess we weren't as fashionably late as I thought, Yos smiled to himself. Too many years spent under military regulations, he realized, as he watched the last officer enter the room. He recognized the officer as Captain Volt, of the _Insertion_.

Recently there had been some minor controversy over the _Insertion's_ use of a crust-cracking barrage on a minor portion of Earth well away from the front lines. Some had suggested that the young officer had exceeded his orders in executing a limited Base Delta Zero. Yos had left the matter to the Theater Commander and deigned not to comment on the subject. And after the disaster on Earth 2 nobody claimed Volt's attack hadn't been justified. Yos couldn't recall if the man was briefing today or not. He certainly came prepared as if he was.

Captain Dual started off the briefing. Yos intentionally wanted Daggibus and his announcement about the discovery of the Home Galaxy to be last item on the agenda.

The Director of Operations activated the large holoprojector in the center of the room. The holoimage was of the Sol System and a score or so of the nearest sectors. A tiny purple icon indicated the location of the _StarGate_ exploratory vessel, while a yellow dotted line showed the location of an active hyperspace lane that led all the way to the planet orbiting Epsilon Eridani.

"Two of the hyperspace scouts have transmitted coordinates for a secure hyperlane. The two scouts, a Nautolan and an Echani, have agreed to split the twenty-five million credit bounty for the hyperlane coordinates." Dual reported. "The third scout, a Blubreen, has failed to report in. The Space Ministry believes that pilot has been lost and has asked that the two remaining scouts not risk their lives in any futile search and rescue operation in the Eridani System."

"And what of the _StarGate_?" Yos asked, eager for news that his first extra-solar colony was under way.

"They last sent a hyperwave ten minutes ago. They are about to jump to hyperspace along the new route. Their message stated that they would attempt a landing sometime after their arrival."

"How soon can we get colonists to the planet?" Yos inquired.

"This is a matter that falls under Director Charge, as well as Moffs Culter and Kuat's jurisdiction. They would know better than me." Dual stated.

"Excuse me," A man interrupted from the middle of the crowd. Yos recognized the Kuati named Gage, Kuat's assistant and right hand man. Yos motioned for the Kuati to continue.

"The _Tchun-Tchin_ is finishing its fitting out, and Moff Culter's Kaminoan cloners have already begun the loading of the new Twilek clones that will colonize the target planet. There have been some delays, as Moff Culter's office has been difficult to get a hold of this past week." Yos wondered if this was simple blame placing by the Moffs or a result of his playing each of them off of one another. "My Kuat of Kuat offers his guarantee that the colony vessel will sail and begin its colonization in four days."

"That is excellent news. This new world will be well out of range of those dastardly devious Terran _planechangas_." Yos grinned in anticipation.

"The captain of the _StarGate_ told me he will be broadcasting footage of the landing as soon as they establish orbit. The HoloNews is requesting permission to broadcast the event on the giant holoscreens in Tarkin's Square." Dual said.

"Make it so. This display of Imperial pride should counter this afternoon's silly peace-protests at the University." Yos was anxious to get on with his own announcement. Several messengers went in and out of the chamber. "What is next on the agenda?"

Several of the generals looked nervously at each other before one of them spoke. "The strategic redeployment of our army outside of Target West has been completed."

The holoprojector's 3D image turned to Legion positions between the city of Shanghai and the flooded region along the Yangtze River. Yos grimaced at the bleeding ulcer. How could a river and a storm have sent the mighty Imperial Army on its heels? "What were our losses during this 'redeployment'" Even Yos hesitated to call it a retreat.

"Losses due to natural causes amount to nearly six hundred personnel with another two hundred incurred due to combat conditions." The General moved several units around on the map and explained Imperial thrusts and strikes that were intended to keep the Chinese Army off balance.

Yos sighed. Ground combat held little interest for him. Daggibus Nalas gave him a sympathetic look. He looked about and saw that several more Army officers were ready with reports of their own. He noted Captain Volt leaving the room, perhaps to use the refreshers, Yos thought.

If only Yos could escape so easily.

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**Inside Security Checkpoint, Emperor's Council Chamber, Tarkin's Tower**

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An Imperial Guardsman sergeant was standing just inside the chamber. He was the hyperwave operator for the platoon of guardsmen in the chamber and controlled all commo into and out of the room. Eritech turned to the warrior. "Sergeant, I am expecting an important commo from Director Charge. Please notify me at once when it arrives." The guardsman only nodded in acknowledgment.

Eritech entered the briefing chamber a moment or two behind the Emperor's arrival. The usurper was still receiving bows and salutes from beings around the room. A Givin dressed in the robes of an astrocartoghrapher followed Yos to his place at the head of the massive holoprojector in the center of the room.

What is that string puppet to Yos, Eritech pondered? It was only a momentary distraction. Yos's presence was all that mattered.

Captain Dual began the briefing with a report of extra-system scouting expeditions that held no interest for the undercover spy. Figh came to his side and placed the valise at his feet. Eritech whispered to Major Figh, "I'm sorry, but I'm a little hard of hearing. Can you place me closer to the Emperor?"

Figh nodded, and picked up the valise again, distracted by his duties of wrangling everyone into place around the briefing chamber.

Emperor Yos seemed fascinated by the report of hyperspace scouts. For a second their eyes locked. It was an unnerving moment for Eritech. He had come here to kill this man. The Usurper seemed to be peering into him like a Rancor does an Eopie. The false Emperor certainly had a presence about him. The moment was broken when Director Dual cleared his throat and continued his presentation.

The momentary contact with the Emperor had made him lose track of how much time had passed. Was he ahead or behind schedule? He wasn't sure.

Figh startled Eritech by taking him by the arm. The Major moved him to a place around the holoprojector no more than a few steps away from the Emperor, and directly next to Captain Nake. As Figh set the valise down next to Eritech he accidentally brushed Nake's leg. Nake looked down at the valise long enough to make Eritech nervous.

Nake watched him as he nonchalantly bent down and slid the valise as close to Yos as possible. Eritech leaned it against the Oro wood support leg of the holoprojector immediately to the right of Yos's foot.

Eritech looked back at the entrance to the chamber and glanced at his chromo. He could clearly see the hyperwave operator. Where is my stang commo? A bead of nervous sweat trickled into his collar from behind his ear.

Around him several generals were talking to the Emperor but Eritech could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

He looked down at the bomb at his feet. He looked at Yos, who was busynodding like a spice-addled Hutt. The longer he stayed the more excruciating the wait became.

Suddenly a hand touched his arm, startling him. Eritech turned to face an annoyed Major Figh, who whispered to him. "You have a comm from the Bureau of Operations."

Nake made eye contact with him and glared. It was evident that his superior was irritated with him. Eritech made a hand gesture indicating an incoming commo. Nake scowled to show that he wasn't pleased.

Figh led Eritech to the sergeant who handed Eritech a small comlink. "Captain Charge, sir. He says it's urgent."

Eritech took the comlink and stared at Figh and the sergeant. He signaled with his hand to indicate that it was a personal commo. They got the idea and stepped back into the conference room. Eritech walked rapidly through the entrance and past the other Imperial guardsmen at the security checkpoint. He tossed the comlink into a large potted plant as he strode past and entered the turbolift on the far side of the reception area.

As the turbolift doors closed he noticed the sergeant staring at him from the security checkpoint.

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**Emperor's Council Chamber, 155****th**** Level**

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Yos leaned on his elbows as the generals' presentations dragged on. At the moment they were outlining the battlelines inside the city of Las Vegas in the North American Union. The generals were upset that their orders to encircle the desert city had been countermanded by the Theater Commander, who had instead driven the army from Target East directly into the city center, causing them to get bogged down in heavy roadway fighting.

"The Target East legions are assured a victory but the Americans are pouring in troopers by the tens of thousands. We need reinforcements." General Patreous stated. "As you can see, your Majesty, the situation in the "Strip" Sector of the city is growing increasingly critical."

Yos nodded. With things stabilized in the west perhaps they could transfer more troopers to the east. He stretched across the holoprojector to get a better look at the roadway dubbed "The Strip" on the holomap.

Before his mind could register what was happening a massive, ear-splitting explosion lifted the holoprojector up, throwing Yos back and simultaneously vaporizing the men standing next to him.

The transpiristeel walls of the chamber shattered into a million dazzling splinters as beings were shot through them at speeds that rivaled a runaway comet through an asteroid field.

The Imperial Guardsmen at the security checkpoint spontaneously combusted as proton energy washed over them.

Officers and officials around the room were torn apart as a blue wave of energy surged through the packed crowd. Yos was tossed backwards as if caught in the grip of a furious Rancor. He tried to think if he had even heard the approach of a bomber before the bomb's impact.

Before he could finish that thought his body impacted with the duracrete balcony outside the chamber. The outer wall collapsed and fell across the city. His forward motion was stopped millimeters from the edge of the precipice in a rapidly spreading pool of his own blood.

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**Shuttle Landing Pads, 110****th**** Level, Tarkin's Tower**

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Eiryn watched Eritech anxiously from the ramp of the _Lambda._ He calmly made his way through the Home Guard checkpoint at the landing pad entrance and smiled at her to let her know all was well.

The young lieutenant handed him back his identification and waved him through. Eritech nodded his appreciation and walked towards the waiting shuttle. His gait was slow and deliberate, yet eerily calm.

Suddenly, high above them the top of the tower exploded like a house of sabacc cards. Great chunks of duracrete and flaming bodies were thrown clear. Everyone except Eritech hit the deck. He just kept walking.

A great cloud of smoke billowed from the ruins above him. The sky was alive with burning scraps of flimsiplast and ash. Stunned officers and stormtroopers ran about. Some shouted confused orders while others screamed. It was absolute chaos.

Even though she knew it was coming Eiryn was obviously stunned. Eritech walked up to the ramp and took her by the arm. "Contact Moff Seco. Tell him that the Emperor is dead. Tell him to proceed with Operation _Diathim._"

"I ca . . . can't. All communications were severed by the Imperial Guard just seconds before you came out of the building. I thought you had been found out." She shouted over the rising sounds of sirens emerging from the tower.

Eritech grimaced. That sergeant must have suspected something. He would have been the only one able to sever commo that quickly. Hopefully he hadn't been able to react in time to save Yos. No, they were both surely dead somewhere up there in that inferno, Eritech convinced himself as he looked back at chaos at the peak of the tower.

"Get on board. We will have to tell him ourselves." Eritech climbed the ramp.

At the top of the ramp his pilot was staring out at the confusion. He, too, was stunned by the explosion. So much so that he didn't think to even raise the ramp when Eritech came aboard. Eritech grabbed the man by the shoulder and shook him roughly. "Take off."

"Um, yes, sir." The pilot turned and slunk back to the cockpit. Eritech closed the ramp himself. Seconds later the _Lambda_ was lifting off and pulling away from the burning tower. Emergency vehicles were racing in from every corner of the metropolis, adding their sirens to the deafening cacophony.

Eritech moved to the cockpit. Airspeeder traffic in the city had come to a crawl in the past few moments as drivers slowed their vehicles to gape at the disaster unfolding in the heart of their city.

"Climb for altitude and then take us back to the _Insertion._" Eritech ordered desperate to get in touch with Moff Seco.

"Are you getting anything?" Eiryn asked the copilot at the commo station.

The man shook his head. "Nothing. Everything is shut down or being jammed from planetside up to high orbit."

"Looks like someone is launching TIEs out in the Margaritifer Terra. They could be intercepting anyone trying to escape the planet." The pilot pointed out to the military district out beyond the Ares Vallis. Sure enough, tiny shapes were racing in from the military training grounds.

"Fierfek. Go for a burn right now and get me back onto my ship, you sith-spawned moron." Eritech ordered.

"Yes, sir." The pilot yanked back on his flight controls. The _Lambda_ just about stood up on its thrusters. Several airspeeders swerved around it as they nearly avoided a collision. The pilot stomped on his floor pedals which caused the shuttle to shot upwards so fast that the sonic boom it left in its wake knocked out viewports in buildings for blocks around its departure point. The inertial dampers had trouble keeping up and Eritech had to cling to the pilot's chair to avoid being flung into the rear bulkhead.

The sky went from its purple-blue hue to the black of the void in a matter of heartbeats. The Lambda leveled out and made for the _Insertion_, which waited patiently between the _Quill_ and the KDY driveyards.

"What is the _Insertion's_ status?" Eritech asked.

"Sensors show they still have their shields down but it looks like the _Quill_ is raising hers and powering up her turbolasers." The co-pilot said.

Eritech didn't know whether to be thankful or not. He wouldn't be able to reboard if the shields were up, but the _Insertion_ wouldn't be able to last long against the flagship of the fleet with her guard down. "Do we have an open commo channel with the ship?"

"No, sir. Commo is still down for several million kilometers. The jamming is definitely coming from the Imperial Guard's garrison near the Imperial Palace." The man said.

Of course it was. This was exactly where he didn't want to be, forced away from Mars just as _Diathim_ was being initiated below. "Flash our landing lights. Let them know we're coming aboard."

"Roger, roger." the pilot flipped a switch on the controls back and forth and guided the shuttle underneath the _Insertion_ towards her hanger bays.

"The _Quill_ has launched fighters." Eiryn said.

"They won't make it here in time to stop us." Eritech said. He knew he was correct when he spotted the bright lights of the hanger ahead. He glanced over at the subspace radar and saw with satisfaction just how far away the _Quill's_ fighters were.

The _Lambda_ slid to a stop in the center of the _Insertion's_ assault hanger. Eritech was out of the craft before the ramp was even halfway down. He took off at a sprint for the turbolifts with Eiryn fast on his heels. Less than a minute later he was entering the bridge.

"Power up the turbolasers and the medium batteries!" he shouted at the crew pit. "What is our commo status?" He yelled at the startled deck officer.

"Sir, all commo channels are being jammed and the encryption codes have been changed. We have limited Laser Aimed Flash Ship-to-Ship commo with the _Quill_ next door. They are asking for our assistance in preventing the off-world passage of anyone coming up from Mars." The officer replied.

"Astral. Then they don't yet suspect what exactly took place at Tarkin's Tower."

"No, sir. I don't think so. Sir, did we do it? Did we kill the Emperor?" The foolish deck officer asked. There was a collected gasp as the sailors in the crew pit below realized what they were party to.

Eritech let the deck officer's question linger for a moment, "Of course, we serve the memory of Palpatine. What of the _Quill's_ fighters?"

"She's launched her whole wing, fighters and bombers." A sailor reported from the crewpit.

"They'll block us in." Eiryn said and glanced toward the forward viewport in an attempt to spot the tiny TIEs out in the void.

"Launch all of our fighters. Tell them to engage the _Quill's_ bombers and clear us a path. Then raise our shields and slip the moorings." Eritech shouted at the deck officer before turning to the crew pit. "Navigation, set us a course for the _Wilderness_ in orbit around Earth. We sail to join Moff Seco."

"The _Quill_ will engage us if we leave." The deck officer countered.

"Every moment we stand here gives our enemy time to recover. Gunnery, engage the _Quill_ as soon as our shields are on line. Aim for the bridge sections." Eritech knew that was where Seco still expected the bomb to explode and had trained his long range sensors from Earth to monitor.

"Can we use the Laser-Aimed Flash Ship-to-Ship to commo the surface of Mars?" Eritech asked Eiryn.

"It would be degraded because of the atmosphere, but yes it is possible." She answered.

"Excellent, put me through to the headquarters of the Home legion and the Culter City Guard." He ordered. Eiryn motioned for the sailor below to follow through with his orders. Outside the viewports he could see they were starting to slip past the KDY driveyards. Suddenly, there were bright flashes of light as the port side heavy batteries opened up on the _Quill._

"The _Quill_ is powering up her turbolasers." the deck officer announced.

"We're ready, sir. The message will have to be brief. Both the Imperial Guard and the _Quill_ will target us with the full might of their jamming sensors any moment." Eiryn said and handed him a datapad to type out his flash traffic.

**Attention All Commands. This is Captain Volt communicating on behalf of Theater Commander Moff Vulnert Seco- Acting Commander of the Maw Defense Fleet. Aveo Yos, Emperor of the 1****st**** Martian Empire, is dead. A group of radicals from KDY and the Royal Guard are attempting to seize control of the government. Operation ****_Diathim_**** is in effect. All military districts, training academies, and replacement troopers are to take control of essential government offices at once . . .**

He stopped as the datapad's screen washed away in a cloud of static and garbled aurebesh. The ship vibrated from the impacts of several heavy turbolaser bolts. The _Quill_ had returned blasts and struck the _Insertion's_ holonet transceiver, inadvertently killing his signal. But he was positive enough that enough of his signal had been sent.

It was in the hands of destiny now. He would rendezvous with Seco and together they would return and claim Mars. Let those fools on the _Quill_ fight for their dead traitor of an Emperor for a few more hours. Without its head the body of the Martian Empire would quickly fall.

"Full power to the sublight drive. Get us away from that scum on the _Quill_ before they batter us to pieces." Eritech pointed at the larger ship that was currently starting to turn towards them so that it could bring all of its batteries to bare on his ship.

Beyond the flagship tiny explosions and tracer blasts revealed the location of dozens of swirling dogfights as the two warships' fighter wings tore into each other. Eritech realized that he had just sacrificed the pilots he had launched against his foe. There was no way to retrieve them now. They would have to buy time and distance for the _Insertion_ with their lives.

He turned to address the bridge. "The Home Legion is assuming control of Mars. I delivered the bomb myself. I saw the blast. The Emperor is dead. Operation _Diathim_ is in effect."

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**The ruins of the Emperor's Council Room, 155****th**** Level, Tarkin's Tower**

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Yos felt a searing pain in his legs as he laid there on his back. He was afraid they were no longer there and refused to look at them. He raised his arm that lay across his stomach and noticed that it was bright red, covered with his own sticky blood.

He coughed painfully and tasted salt in his mouth. Flecks of blood spurted upwards with every spasm.

Somewhere nearby someone was screaming for a corpsman. He turned his head towards the interior of the chamber. How did I get out on the balcony, he wondered? He was still confused about the explosion that had nearly torn him in two. The chamber was filled with smoke and bodies. Sheets of duracrete crumbled and collapsed off the walls, revealing the durasteel armored bulkheads that must have contained the blast. Shadowy figures moved in the smoke and he understood that someone was probably searching for him.

A prone figure laid near him. It wore the burnt remnants of a Yag'Dhul astrocartographer's robes. A breeze fluttered up from the Ares Vallis and uncovered Daggibus Nalas's face. At least the half that remained.

"No." Yos groaned. The two of them were the only beings who knew the way home. That knowledge couldn't be allowed to die with them.

He turned away from his dead friend. He wanted to look out over the city he had built one last time. The red walls of Culter City were washed in the bright light of Sol on the warmest day the planet had ever known.

He smiled. And coughed again. Painful spasms rocked his body. He knew he didn't have long.

The red buildings that stretched as far as the eye could see slowly changed for Yos. He saw them as turning to the blues and greens of Denon and his childhood home.

He saw his mother baking in the kitchen of that home, and his father the day he had graduated from the Academy on Anaxes. They were smiling at him like they had on that day so long ago.

He was witnessing himself on the bridge of his old _Acclamator_, the _RAS Fearless_, as he followed Captain Dodonna into the First Battle of Cato Neimodia. It had been his first combat command. His men had trusted him with their lives and he hadn't disappointed.

He recalled the longing he had felt the first time he saw the senator from Naboo, Padme Amidala, and the regret he had felt at her passing.

He relived the fear he had known during the Navy's purge at the end of the Clone War, when Palpatine and his lackey Vader had murdered so many of his old friends and good officers. He was conscious once again of the relief that Tarkin had offered with the command of _Tarkin's Fist_ and the sanctuary of the maw.

His relief at his first vision of this red world on which he could save his derelict fleet.

The red orb in his mind faded to blue and he realized he was on the bridge of the _Quill_ looking down upon the planet Subterrel.

A tiny hand held his. He looked down at the smiling face of a four-year old Phasma. She wore a miniature version of his naval uniform and was staring wide-eyed out at the Galaxy.

_Is it really all for me, Daddy?_

_Everything I can give, Jawa, is all for you._

With a smile on his lips his visions faded into darkness.


	67. Roblin 5

**Beta Hanger, ****_Imperial II_****-class SD ****_Quill_****, Equatorial Orbit, Imperial Mars**

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Lieutenant Commander Roblin was a man in love.

He moved his fingers across the skin of the object of his affection.

He smiled as he recalled how responsive to his touch she was. How he could control her every move with just the tips of his fingers.

The TIE/In _Interceptor_ was certainly a thing of sheer beauty, Roblin thought as he admired his new craft's sleek lines. Though the fighter shared the cockpit, drive pods and wing braces of the older TIE/In _Starfighters_ he was accustomed to, it bore new solar collector panels that were lengthened and angled with their front sections removed. This new shape gave the _Interceptor_ a dagger-like appearance. The advanced design gave the pilot an increased field of vision while its shrunken profile was meant to frustrate the targeting of enemy gunners. The panel design also gave the craft a more menacing visage, which fell in line with the Fleet's adoption of the Tarkin Doctrine.

The fighter came with a host of other improvements. Four new L-s9.3 laser cannons graced each wing tip to compliment the fighter's twin chin cannons. An upgraded SFS T-s9a targeting computer was light years ahead of the old system aboard the Imperial fighters currently in combat over Earth. Not to mention new solar array energy compensators, upgraded inertial dampers, flight controls, Roblin felt he could go on for days about what new features he loved in his new fighter.

His new command was conducting the same awe-filled inspection that he was along the long rows of TIE launch racks. Pilots crawled all over the fifty-two _Interceptors_. Even the bomber and recce pilots from _Bantha_ and _Eopie_ Squadrons were checking out the new starfighters. There was scuttlebutt that the bomber pilots would be receiving something called a _Scimitar_ Assault Bomber sometime in the next few months but Roblin was never too concerned with bombers. He was a fighter ace through and through.

_Mynock_ and _Bantha_ Squadrons had recently returned from their tour of duty over Target East on Earth. They were the core of what was now Roblin's new command, which consisted of seventy-two TIE-series craft as well as eight _Lambdas_, fifteen _Delta_-class stormtrooper assault barges, and various GAT-12 skipray assault boats, AT-AT barges, a _Gamma-class_ assault shuttle, recovery and repair craft, and several assault gunboats. All of that made up what was officially the 666th TIE Wing, but what Roblin had dubbed the _Mynock_ Wing as soon as he took command.

The pilots of _Howlrunner_, _Bandigo_, _Grackelcat_ and _Nightshrike_ squadrons, his other four _Interceptor_ Squadrons, hadn't complained about the evident nepotism in the name change. There wasn't a lot of shame in being associated with one of the top scoring fighter formations to come out of the war on Earth so far.

It was wizard to see the men in good spirits. What had initially promised to be a quick, one-sided war on Earth had turned into a long slog with a primitive species that had no quit in them. One of the branches that had taken the most losses in the conflict had been the TIE Corps.

The TIE/In _Starfighter_ could run rings around anything the earthlings put up into the void but once it encountered an atmosphere it slowed down exponentially. It was a weakness the earthlings had exploited whenever they could. Even aided with fast, shielded ARC-170 strikes from orbit the Imperial Navy had yet to wipe the earthlings from the skies of their world. Roblin hoped the _Interceptors_ would change all that.

"Can you believe these civie schutta?"

Roblin turned to see Captain August approaching him from the pilot's briefing room. 'Striker' didn't bother with a salute. His old friend had been promoted to Roblin's old slot in charge of _Mynock_ Squadron. Roblin couldn't think of any buckethead he'd rather have in his former position. "One blind jump and they're the heroes of the Empire."

"How many of them made it through?" Roblin asked, assuming his panel man was referring to the hyperspace scouts out by Epsilon Eridani that were all over the HoloNews today.

"Two so far. I'm not holding out hope for the third. It's been too long." August came up alongside Roblin and admired the lines of the new fighter. Roblin had yet to meet a pilot who had met the _Interceptors_ with anything but approval.

"Maybe he reversed the 'big jump' and is halfway back Home by now." Roblin offered.

August grinned at the thought. "Neg that. Don't you know all hyperspace scouts are laserbrained nerve burners. If they had any piloting skill they'd be flying TIEs."

"Well, they've got to be nuts to make a blind jump into the unknown like that. Nuts and suicidal."

"See, boss, that's where they're differ slightly from us then. Going straight out at the enemy without any shields, TIE pilots are suicidal and bloodthirsty."

Roblin chuckled. Fighter pilots and scouts never got along. Scouts were independent-minded while TIE pilots had had those urges drilled out of them at the academies. "I'm surprised they sold their jump coordinates to the Emperor."

"For a pretty credit too. I've heard scuttlebutt that it was anywhere from twenty to thirty million credits. I wonder which one will get the prize money." August said. August ducked down to look under the exhaust port. Roblin noticed that his pilots had rarely been able to remove their eyes from the sleek _Interceptors_ once they were introduced to them.

"Those two will probably be doing the old connect-disconnect with half the piffers in the capital when they get back." Roblin said. "Old man Yos will probably have us performing parade escort for them when they fly over the capital on their return."

"When do you think that'll be?"

"I'd guess sometime tomorrow. Those scouts won't spend much time sitting around that new colony once the _StarGate_ gets there. Like I said, they're greedy scum and they're not truly happy until they've got a dozen secret hyperspace routes up their sleeves." Roblin said.

"And then they all turn smuggler."

"Or pirate." Roblin said. Lately there had been reports of an upswing in the pirate activity in the system.

"Attention on deck!" A ground crew being shouted from the airlock blast doors.

Roblin and August spun around and saw a high ranking officer in a TIE flight suit escorting a man wearing the gray overalls of a Sienar Fleet Systems engineer.

"As you were." Commander Vertitus told the flight crews after they had snapped to attention. The commander of FlightOps East saw Roblin and started walking towards him.

Roblin whipped off a salute, which Vertitus returned. "Commander." Roblin said.

"Lieutenant Commander, you remember Doctor Skunk, Chief Design Engineer for Sienar Fleet Systems." Vertitus introduced the engineer next to him.

"Of course, Doctor." Roblin shook hands with the man. Over a year ago Roblin and Vertitus had raced the prototypes for the _Interceptor_ and the TIE Advanced x1 for the airspeeder designer. "A pleasure to see you again."

"Yes, yes. You are the pilot who flew against Commander Vertitus when Culter City was but a small town." The man's thick Fondorian accent made him difficult to understand.

"Doctor Skunk is here to observe an entire wing maneuver with the _Interceptors."_ Vertitus explained. "As you know, a few squadrons have already been outfitted with the new fighters and returned to the fleet. But the _Quill_ is the first Star Destroyer to have every pilot equipped with the new TIEs."

It made sense to Roblin. The _Quill_ was the flagship, after all, and the former command ship of the Emperor himself.

"Do you officers have any concerns with new fighters? Are your men having any troubles understanding the advanced systems?" Skunk asked.

"Just the normal down gripes about the lack of a hyperdrive and shields. As for understanding how the flight systems work it's all KM to us vape fliers." Roblin replied.

"KM?" Skunk looked confused.

"'Kriffing magic' Doctor." Vertitus explained. "It's what most bucketheads like Commander Roblin here believe makes their fighters fly."

Skunk chuckled nervously at the over-simplification of his life's work, "Oh? Very wizard. Very funny guy. I hear that about you. I'm also here for personal reason. I also wanted to meet the top ace in Navy."

Roblin was surprised. He knew his kill count was high, starting with the initial air battle over Target East, but he had heard that the pilots over Target West had faced odds of almost five to one. Surely the hottest pilot came from that theater.

"Well, I'm hon . . ." Roblin started.

"Captain August, you are an astral pilot of the highest caliber." Skunk interrupted. "Your victories over Las Vegas have pushed your count to almost two dozen ahead of your nearest competition. And now you lead the _Mynocks,_ an entire squadron of LTSs is quite rare." Roblin winced at the fleet abbreviation for skilled pilots. 'Likely To Survive', wasn't an acronym one wanted to dwell on. Skunk didn't seem to realize that he had insulted them and continued. "Even your newest man, Ensign Porkins, has excelled in the old TIE/In _Starfighters_ against the Terrans during Moff Seco's surge attack."

Porkins had been a rookie when Roblin had been injured over Target East, which made Roblin wonder how much of the war he had missed. Everything was happening so fast these days on Mars.

"Actually, sir." August humbly said, "Lieutenant Porkins isn't our new man anymore. We picked up Ensign Celchu, from Alderaan, to fill the Lieutenant Commander's slot now that he's commanding the wing. As for all those victories, sir, I'm more concerned about the fact that Terran victories have been increasing lately."

"The new _Interceptors_ should quantify the atmospheric speed differential that has handicapped our older TIE models against enemy airspeeders over Terra. They are far deadlier and should be a factor in accruing even more kills for you." Skunk said.

"With all due respect, sir, I could care less about accruing kills. My only concern when I go up is my life and the lives of my men. After that, I'd rather not celebrate the fact that I have taken the lives of beings who are only trying to defend their home world from Imperial expansion." August said.

Roblin shot Vertitus a worried look. The Commander looked uncomfortable. August was simply giving voice to a widely spread sentiment in the TIE Corps. But it was a sentiment a pilot usually kept to himself, lest prying ears overhear and denounce him to the new Commissars that had cropped up lately.

"Perhaps we should get this exercise underway." Vertitus suggested, changing the subject. Skunk looked confused, unsure what he had said to upset August. "Doctor, if you'll join me we'll be flying in the TIE/sh shuttle over there." Vertitus pointed to the larger craft on the end of the nearest TIE rack.

"Yes, that would be wizard. After you, Commander." Skunk said. As soon as the designer had turned his head Vertitus shot August an angry glare.

"Better watch yourself. Don't want to piss off Commander COMPNOR now, do you?" Roblin warned.

"He can kiss my _shebs._ He thinks he can tell us how to fly when he's been sitting out the war from behind a desk."

Roblin thought it wise to let the matter drop for now. "Let's get the boys aboard their fighters and go vape something."

"Sounds astral to me, boss." August agreed.

Roblin placed his flight helmet on his head and activated the wing's comm channel with a flicker of his eyelid. "Six-six-six pilots report to your craft. Repeat, all six-six-six pilots reports to their craft."

His voice echoed across the assault hanger. Ground crew and pilots alike sprinted in every direction. Tibanna hoists and fuel lines were withdrawn. Pilots in their black suits started up the walls of the hanger on small repulserlifts to the entrance gantries high above. The TIEs raised from their maintenance positions to their launch positions in a matter of seconds. Already the first pilots were closing their loading hatches and powering up their craft. The whine of dozens of twin ion engines soon filled the hanger.

August paused for a moment and touched Roblin's elbow. "Timus, how are your eyes?"

Much like the Imperial logo that had been tattooed on his right bicep as a cadet in flight school, Roblin had barely given a second thought to his brand new cyberoptics, a gift he had received from the earthlings during his last hop over Target East. Unless you looked closely and noticed the miniscule scars around his eye sockets you would have never noticed he had implants.

He glanced at the far wall and increased the magnification to twenty times normal, bringing the details of the bulkhead into focus. His surgeons and optometrist had wanted him to practice continuously with the new settings like IR, microwave and ultraviolet spectrum analysis. But seeing in a different spectrum left him feeling uneasy and slightly nauseous. He preferred the normal, visible light setting which he had enjoyed for most of his life. He switched his eyes back to that familiar magnification as he turned to his friend.

"I'm a Gungan's ears better than the alternative." Roblin said, thinking of the fiery possibilities of his crash.

"But you're 100 percent?" August asked.

"The flight surgeons say I'm as smooth as a neutron star. Ready to get you all behind the sticks of these new squints. I'm also anxious to get back dirtside so I can catch up with your score." Roblin mustered up all the bravado he had. He feared his friend wasn't buying it, but not as much as he had feared they would never let him fly again.

"Good to hear it, boss. There is no other pilot I'd rather have out there on my panel than you." August said.

Roblin nodded in appreciation. Having the approval of the flight surgeons was one thing. Having the faith and trust of his men was another. "Clear skies, Striker."

"Clear skies, Bloodstripe." August saluted before sprinting towards the loading gantry.

Roblin's fighter was located on the opposite rack from the _Mynocks_ and as such he had to run to the opposing side of the hanger to enter the gantry. As his lift went up the bulkhead the TIE/sh shuttle carrying Vertitus and his observer launched out the hanger shield with a high pitched whine. The hanger smelled of ozone for a brief second or two.

Two hanger crewman in gray coveralls were waiting for him when he reached his fighter. He glanced down the waiting rows of _Interceptors_ and noted he was one of the last pilots to board. The few remaining ground crew rushed to clear the gantries for launch.

Roblin turned and climbed down the ladder backwards into his cockpit. He stepped both feet into his seat before spinning around and crouching down into the ejection seat. As he situated himself in the cockpit he flipped the power toggle and his controls came to life with a series of indicator lights. All systems were in the blue. He looked up and flashed a thumbs up to the two crewmen. They closed the escape hatch above Roblin before retracting the loading ladder back up onto the gantry. Roblin assumed they were clear but didn't bother to visually check as he only had cybernetic eyes for the star-filled void that waited for him on the other side of the hanger's energy shield.

Bloodstripe started his engines, which wound up into their signature purring whine. His eyelid flicked to activate his comm. "All flight leaders report in."

"_Gracklecat_ standing by."

"_Eopie_ standing by."

"_Bandigo_ standing by."

"_Mynock_ standing by." Striker's voice piped in from Bloodstripe's old spot.

"_Bantha_ standing by." Tusken stated for the bomber squadron.

"_Howlrunner_ standing by."

"_Nightshrike_ standing by." The last flight leader reported.

"ISD 1765 FlightOps, this is QI2-0-1 requesting launch clearance for six-six-six wing for a training hop. We are DSW at this time." Roblin asked.

"Roger, roger, QI2-0-1, this is FO 1765, you are bingo for launch." A technician replied from the FlightOp's bridge.

Bloodstripe didn't need any more encouragement. He disengaged the rack controls and stomped down on his foot pedals. His _Interceptor_ dropped several meters from the rack before it shot forward through the hanger's energy shield. The craft's glow lamps illuminated the interior with a soft, red light as the inertial dampers compensated for the sudden loss of gravity.

Seventy TIEs emerged from the _Quill's_ ventral hanger bay like a swarm of angry fever wasps. Three seconds after he vacated the hanger the last fighter in the wing exited through the energy shield on his tail.

Bloodstripe was elated to finally be behind the stick of a TIE again. He shoved the flight controls hard to the left and put the hot fighter into a controlled Tallon roll. "Yeehah!" he screamed in joy.

"QI2-1-1, are you having fun with the Emperor's property?" Vertitus voice asked across the comm.

"Just testing out the new flight controls, TE-FO-1." Roblin told his superior as he brought his fighter back into line with the rest of the 666th. Beneath his bucket he was grinning from ear to ear.

He was back in the Void, the Big Isn't, and far away from the goo of atmo. He didn't have to worry about speedy dirt fliers and their nearly invisible streams of slugs, their new ion-tracking sidewinders or cabler missiles shot off by hundreds of anti-airspeeder units on the ground. Up here his TIE was king, top Acklay on the food chain and number one in the heart of every pilot in the Fleet. Even the few ARC-170 pilots on patrol over the dockyards must be staring slack-jawed at the cloud of sleek fighters emerging from the flagship.

They emerged from the starboard side of the _Quill_ and climbed for higher orbit, overflying another Star Destroyer that was anchored between the _Quill_ and the KDY driveyards. Bloodstripe saw that the ship was displaying the markings of the Subterrel Squadron and assumed it must have been the _Slash_ or the _Flood_. The fourth _Imperial_-class Star Destroyer, the _Insertion_, was showing the colors over Earth, Bloodstripe thought. He mentally kicked himself when his sensors showed the _Insertion's_ IFF code on his subspace radar. Never assume anything, he thought.

"Alright, time to get this show on the road." Bloodstripe said to himself before activating the comm. "Six-six-six, assume screen formation around the _Banthas. Nightshrikes_ you have the lead."

He pulled up into a position above the wing and watched as the experienced fighters formed up around the slower bombers, each squadron responsible for a different sector of the defensive maneuver. The _Eopies_ shot ahead as the _Interceptors_ slowed down to match the speed of the TIE/sa bombers. Bloodstripe studied the reconnaissance squadron for a second in their old TIE/rc scout fighters. He needed to speak with Doctor Skunk after this hop was over, see what he could do to fit out several _Interceptors_ into reconnaissance models. It wouldn't be a difficult conversion, Bloodstripe thought, you'd just have to swap out some of the cannons for an upgraded sensor package. It'd give the scouts more of a fighting chance over Earth when they went back into the goo.

"Astral, eight seconds, six-six-six. _Gracklecats_ and _Bandigo,_ you guys are bogey bait. Break contact and make a run at the rest of the wing." Bloodstripe wanted to see how his boys did in a mock voidfight before they got sent back to 'The Show'. "_Banthas_ and _Eopies_ take five. _Nightshrikes,_ assume Attack Formation Echo-3. _Howlrunners,_ pull into a Beta-Zero. Striker, your prerogative." Bloodstripe ordered.

"Roger that, Bloodstripe." Striker said as the _Mynocks_ formed into a screen formation that was optimal for performing the Under Split. Any green pilots in the attacking squadrons were about to get a nasty surprise. Bloodstripe smiled; his friend had chosen one of his old tricks.

The two attacking squadrons dove on the three defenders. Flashes of green training bolts flashed across the closing distance. Bloodstripe located Vertitus's TIE/sh and pulled his own fighter into formation on the superior officer's port panel. The two craft flew a lazy over watch flight pattern over the mock battle.

"I think the new fighters are a hit." Bloodstripe commed the other craft.

"I see they're faster than their own recon fighters." Vertitus replied. "There also seems to be a lack of comm discipline in the wing, QI2-1-1."

"Roger that, TE-FO-1. It's something we'll work on." Bloodstripe lied. He had no intention of getting rid of the call signs the pilots used while on duty. It was a far superior method than the FlightOps approved method of using dehumanizing numbers that confused the nine hells out of most pilots in voidfights.

"Commander Roblin," Doctor Skunk's voice cut across Vertitus's comm signal, "Oops . . . I mean, QI2-what was the rest of it?" Bloodstripe smiled as the engineer made his point for him. "Your bomber squadron brought along dummy targets, did they not."

"Aye, they did."

"I would very much like to see the _Interceptors_ engage those targets at various ranges, if that is possible." Skunk asked.

"Not a problem, sir. We bucket heads aren't really happy until we've vaped something to start our day." Bloodstripe said. He flipped over to the wing channel, "Six-six-six, break contact. Come onto an attack line near the _Insertion. Mynocks_ you have lead."

He watched as the fighters and recon TIEs came onto line twenty klicks to the _Insertion's_ stern. "Alright, _Bantha_ Lead, you may deploy your targets . . ."

The comm channel abruptly cut to jamming static. "What in the nine hells?" Bloodstripe whispered to himself as he squinted at the hyperwave radio set on his left side. The system was operating normally, so were his N-s6 Navcon and his T-s9a targeting computer. He activated his comm control on his HUD and flipped through his available channels.

He hailed everyone he could think of, "TE-FO-1, this is QI2-0-1 . . . KDY driveyards, this is . . . Any six-six-six craft . . . Striker . . . ISD 1765 FlightOps . . . Tusken . . . Mars Orbital Control . . ." nothing. Whoever was jamming him had access to a device that was several pay grades above his own.

Striker flew by his viewport and waggled his panels at him. The universal signal for distress. The new _Interceptor_ allowed him to come up alongside his panel man and they could just barely make each other out in their respective cockpits. Striker was raising his hands in confusion and motioned that his comm was out as well.

All of a sudden, ahead of them, Vertitus's TIE/sh started flashing its landing lamps. Bloodstripe recognized BoSS flash code when he saw it. His superior's comm was out as well, and was recommending they return to the _Quill_ to do a diagnostic on all of their hyperwaves. Bloodstripe figured that was a better idea than anything he could think off. He was disappointed they wouldn't have more stick time on this hop, but what could you do without comms. This must be what the abos felt like when they went up against us, he thought. He motioned at Striker to round up the rest of the squadron and follow him back to the hanger.

He checked his sensors again. The _Quill_ and the KDY driveyard icons on his multi-range TAG was raising their shields. The massive orbital laboratories and a multitude of transports and service vessels in orbit began flashing their lights in BoSS code as well. He assumed there was a wild surge of comm traffic that was being veraciously jammed out of existence. Bloodstripe realized whatever had hit the wing was effecting everything within Mars Orbital Control's area of responsibility.

There was a sudden flash of light that caused Bloodstripe's helmet lenses to polarize in an effort to protect his cybernetic organs. He had to squint anyway as a spiraling cascade of blue-hued circles emerged from the _Quill's_ starboard shields. At the center of each circle was the high-velocity impact of heavy turbolasers. It took Bloodstripe a moment to convince himself that what he was witnessing was real.

The _Insertion_ was discharging her port side battery of dual heavy turbolasers into the _Quill_ while she sat at her moorings.

"She's underway." Bloodstripe observed the forward motion of the _Insertion_ seconds before it smashed free of its orbital bollards. A ship would only do that if she didn't have permission from Orbital Control to set sail. The _Insertion_ was trying to escape and she was blasting upon his home to ensure her getaway.

His TAG showed the _Quill_ was still operational. Her shields had held even at such close range. Power levels showed she was bringing her heavy batteries on line as well. She could put twenty percent more power than the _Insertion_ could with every blast. Her engines weren't powered up yet but she wouldn't let the sucker punch by her sister go unpunished. Bloodstripe wanted to cheer.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Striker flashing his lamps in a distress signal. Bloodstrike looked out at his panelman and saw that his friend was pointing at something near the _Insertion's_ starboard flank.

The _Insertion_ was heading directly for them and for a moment the bulk of her hull hid her attack squadrons from Bloodstripe's view. Now, though, forty-eight fighters emerged from their carrier in a staggered formation. Bloodstripe thought the formation was sloppy until he realized the approaching fighters probably had their comms jammed as well.

The _Insertion's_ escorts still flew the slower TIE/In _Starfighter_ that Bloodstripe was intimately familiar with. He keyed his comm and even though he figured it was a futile effort he tried to hail the approaching fighters. "Four-nine-five fighter wing this is six-six-six lead. You are approaching my formation. What are your intentions?"

He received no response, not that he was surprised as every FlightOp channel he tried was jammed into static. "What are you boys up to?" he asked himself. The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise warning him of imminent danger. Were Imperials attacking Imperials and he wasn't aware of it? They're not the enemy, are they? Their ship had attacked his ship.

His cybernetic eye switched to the IR spectrum and noticed the slight increase in heat coming from the chin cannons of the TIE/In _Starfighters._ "Fierfek, they've got their fangs out!"

Suddenly, after finally getting behind the stick of a TIE again, he was in the last place he ever wanted to be in: a vapefight with other TIEs.

The _Insertion's_ TIEs opened up the engagement just as Bloodstripe tried to toggle his lamps on and off in a tardy warning. The _Howlrunners_ were the closest squadron to the attack and volley of green bolts smashed through their formation.

Three _Howlrunners_ burst into fireballs. Bloodstripe's new eyes fed him the tiniest of details. A pilot thrown free of his cockpit with his helmet smashed in while he gasped for breath. Another pilot dying as heavy bolts burned through the cockpit's viewport, the pilot's chest, and then exited the craft through the port ion engine. The third pilot vaporizing as his sublight drive exploded.

A fourth _Howlrunner_ fell out of their formation as his dagger-shaped solar collector collapsed. Bloodstripe grimaced. Space Rescue Corp's emergency channel was being jammed as well. They were on their own.

The element of surprise was wisely spent by the attacking fighters as the remaining _Howlrunners_ scattered in every direction. Bloodstripe scowled to see that only a pair of them stuck with their panelman.

The other four squadrons reacted to the ambush with a level of skill that belied their level of training and combat experience.

The _Mynocks,_ showing why they were Bloodstripe's elite squadron, performed an Immelman Turn and screamed into the tightly packed attackers at twenty-one MGLT/second, a speed the _Insertion's_ fighters couldn't hope to match.

Bloodstripe watched with pride as Striker unleashed a volley that impacted dead center on the lead fighter. "Ha. Astral 'Go away', Striker!" He yelled with glee as the lead attacking fighter vanished from his TAG.

Wampa and Zap flat-hatted the destroyed fighter's panelman and ended up on the _Starfighter's_ six. Their combined bolts stitched massive chunks out of the craft's solar collectors before the fighter spun violently out of control.

The _Gracklecats_ and the _Bandigos_ gained angles on the attackers and dove into them from above and below. They splashed several of the slower craft as they tore apart the enemy formation.

Bloodstripe wondered if the _Insertion's_ wing knew it was attacking a formation of the swift _Interceptors_ when they had launched. If they had, they must have known this was a suicide hop when they took off.

As if confirming his train of thought, a _Starfighter_ juked out of its formation and rammed one of the _Gracklecats, _taking both fighters out in a blazing fireball.

"Stang fanatics. Who are these sleemos?" Bloodstripe asked himself. He pushed his stick hard to his right and dove into the fray. He couldn't be seen as not willing to risk his life when he ordered his men to risk theirs.

He read the TAG data that was being directly fed into his HUD and selected a target. One major setback of the _StarFighters_ was their immense blindspot. Their only view was straight forward so they had to rely on their sensors for info about the remainder of the void around them. In a void fight like this it was easy for pilots to lose focus on their sensors.

He dropped into the zero angle on two bogeys that were trying to stay on the six of a pair of nimble _Bandigos. _His smile was predatory when neither of them reacted to his sudden appearance. He latched onto the rearmost fighter with his TAG.

Then he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the blasting stub.

These weren't faceless abos of Earth or the bloodthirsty N'zoth he had flown against in the Home Galaxy. These were men of the Empire just like him. He could be latched onto a fellow Corellian for all he knew. On the other hand, these men had lost their kriffing minds. They had blasted on his men, his squadron mates, and for that they would die.

His thumb jammed down hard on the blasting stub.

The four wingtip-mounted L-s9.3 laser cannons opened up on their target. Red bolts sliced through the targeted bogey's engine mount, causing a cascading explosion that rolled forward and burst the cockpit, flash-frying the pilot alive.

Before the other bogey could react Bloodstripe had his cannons trained on it. He wasn't latched on but his fan-shot ripped into the lead fighter's right panel. The _Starfighter_ spun out of control as sparks of electricity and pieces of titanium alloy arced into the void from the stricken enemy. The fighter was out of the fight and Bloodstripe didn't have the stomach for finishing the pilot off. Let Space Rescue get him if they're around. I'm sure Fleet Intel would love to get their claws into him, he thought.

All around him _Interceptors_ banked and jinked in attempts to gain vectors on their outnumbered foes. Their distinctive dagger shapes eluded the cannons of the _Starfighters_ time and time again as their squatter frames squeezed through one volley after another. The graceful sublight maneuvers reminded Bloodstripe of an intricate ballet dancing between life and death.

Large flashes of blaster fire lit the battlefield as the _Quill_ opened up with her starboard octuple barbette turbolasers. The _Insertion_ had already passed alongside the void fight. The fighters were too involved in their own combat to engage the capital ship. She was now far enough ahead of the flagship for the _Quill's_ gunners to open up with all of her batteries. Large slugs flashed through the fighter battle to impact with planet-shaking force on the retreating Star Destroyer.

Bloodstripe dropped out of combat for a moment to watch as the _Nightshrikes_ escorted the _Banthas_ on a bombing run against the back stabbing warship. Their proton bombs impacted the bridge shields except for one lucky strike, which pierced the deflector shielding and walloped the _Insertion's_ communication tower.

The powerful barrage wasn't enough to slow the traitorous Star Destroyer down. Her sublight drives had engaged and she was starting to outpace the battle even as more bolts from the _Quill_ collided with her rear deflectors. Bloodstripe realized that she was moving way too fast to be able to recover her fighter escort. He wondered if the fighters he had been engaging knew that they were being abandoned.

More fighters and bombers were racing in from the direction of the driveyards. Bloodstripe at first worried that the _Insertion_ was being reinforced. But then several of the _Insertion's_ fighters broke contact and tried to intercept the new arrivals and as their bolts flashed across the void it left little doubt as to which side the arriving fighters were fighting for.

The surviving _Starfighters_ were outnumbered almost five-to-one and the _Quill's_ anti-airspeeder batteries were starting to engage them at long distance. Except for the initial _Howlrunners_ and the lone _Gracklecat,_ they had only managed to vape one _Interceptor_ in the _Bandigo_ Squadron. It was a sign of how much the new fighters outclassed their predecessors.

The _Insertion_ was a miniscule grey dot racing away towards the blue speck of light that was Earth when several traitorous fighters began breaking from their attack formations. They slowed their speeds to almost nil and wagged their panels in surrender. Bloodstripe checked his TAG and made sure the traitors were powering down their cannons as well.

The new arrivals from the driveyards turned out to be some of Kuat's TIE Advanced x1s. The shielded fighters splashed four more of the Insertion's fighters before the survivors broke up their attack and signaled their surrender. Bloodstripe checked his TAG again and counted that twenty-three of the _Insertion's_ fighter wing had been knocked out of the fight, compared to a loss of only five fighters on their side.

The combat died down as the last of the _Starfighters_ with any fight left in them were vaped by the overwhelming numbers. Bloodstripe spent a frustrating few minutes trying to wrangle in his flights with only his lamps for signals.

The _Gracklecats_ and _Bandigos_ shepherded the captured bogeys back to the _Quill._ Under the blasters of the Fleet's flagship, Bloodstripe hoped the traitors realized that any remaining resistance would be futile.

He spotted Vertitus's shuttle heading back towards the friendly ImpStar Deuce, which was dropping its shield deflector shields now that the _Insertion_ had retreated beyond blasting range and was putting a few hundred thousand kilometers between them with every passing moment. He chuckled when he realized the good Doctor probably got much more than he had bargained for when he had come along on this hop. Surely the void combat had proven the superiority of the _Interceptors._

Striker flashed him in code asking what he wanted the _Mynocks_ to do. Bloodstripe told the flight leader to keep his boys on their toes. There was no telling if whatever was happening was truly over. The beat-up _Howlrunners_ followed the captured prisoners into the hanger while the remaining fighters of the 666th remained on alert.

Dozens of transports had raised their shields when they had lost comm with Mars. Some had fled to the other side of the planet while others had waited patiently when the Star Destroyers began dueling it out. Some were now returning. Bloodstripe's sensors detected the faintest traces of ship-to-ship flash comm traffic. Hopefully, the lightly armored transports and container vessels were signaling their loyalty to the _Quill. _He didn't think the flagship was in the mood to mess around.

Twenty minutes had passed since the end of the fight when all of his comm channels abruptly came back to life. The Imperial March screamed in his helmet for a moment as his audiocasters tried to rupture his eardrums. Several fighters in his wing veered about as their own comm tried to deafen their pilots. Bloodstripe frantically flickered his eyelids at his HUD icons to turn the volume down.

"Attention All Commands!" An angry voice cut across the comm. "An attempt has been made on the life of our glorious leader, Emperor Yos. All forces of the Maw Defense Fleet in orbit around Imperial Mars are ordered to transmit their loyalty to the Imperial Guard at once. All ships attempting to leave Martian orbit are to be intercepted or destroyed."

Garbled bocce and binary code suddenly filled the hyperspace. "Attention All Commands, the Imperial Guard has assassinated Emperor Aveo Yos. All ships are to follow orders from the office of Theater Commander . . . destroyed . . . _Diathim_." Suddenly that voice was wiped out by jamming.

"Ploo Squadron communique incorrect." The first voice returned. Bloodstripe concentrated on the comm and ignored his other sensors. What was going on down below on Mars? "Suspected coup underway by units of Imperial Navy. All loyal ships are to respond immediately to recall order in Martian orbit. All orders from any acting Imperial Governor are to be ignored."

More contradictory orders filled the hyperwaves. Bloodstripe tried to form a picture of what was happening on Mars and amongst the Fleet around Earth.

Was the Emperor dead? He had no idea. Seco's CommScan troopers were filling the hyperwaves with transmissions that said he was calling for something called Operation _Diathim_ to initiate.

He hated being blind like this. He needed to know.

What was happening to the Empire?

Where was the Princess?


	68. When Ashla met Phasma

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**Brakatak Herd Homestead, Malastare Residential District, Culter City, Mars**

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Ashla Ti floated several centimeters above the floor of the _Agen's Light's_ docking bay. Her eyes were closed as she struggled to focus on the floating meditation of her body, her two lightsabers and several of Raf's tools

Why didn't I tell him before he left? Ashla mentally kicked herself for the billionth time that day. And now Jason was gone, off to wherever stormtrooper training was held on this planet, and not allowed contact with the greater Galaxy at large until his training was complete. And once his training was complete he'd be sent to fight in a war against his own kind.

Why did he have to go and complicate things by telling her he loved her ?

It had all happened so fast. Do I love him? Yes, I think so. At least, I care for him tremendously. But what does a Jedi know of love anyway. She could just hear the seasoned voice of Master Yoda, 'Love him, or love him not. There is no like.' But then again he would probably object to her falling in love in the first place. The lessons of the Temple had been engrained in her since she was a youngling of two years. Attachment was a path towards the Dark Side.

_A Jedi is a Jedi, first and foremost, and only. For a Jedi to divide his attention between the will of the Force and the will of others is to invite disaster. _This tenet had haunted her more and more as her attachment to the cure earthling grew. But the Force was changing here in this new Galaxy and her Master, Agen Kolar, had set her with the task of creating a new path for the Jedi Order here. She couldn't afford to be distracted by love at such a fragile time for the reemergence of the Jedi, could she?

Jason certainly thought so. He had convinced her that the Jedi were the embodiment of the love and love was the strongest embodiment of the Light Side of the Force. Listening to his words had convinced her that never knowing love would be an affront to the will of the Force. And she had fallen so easily into it, even as she struggled against becoming attached to the boy whose species felt so strange in the Force.

And why did she have to try and be so kriffing cool about it, telling Jason 'I know' when he had professed his love? What was she? Some kind of Corellian spice smuggler?

"Stang it, I'm a stoopa fool." She growled as she lost mental focus on her meditation. She fell back on her _shebs_ as the items she had been levitating clattered to the floor around her. A stinging pain instantly arose from her assaulted backside. She had a fleeting thought about how Jason's hands on her _shebs_ might make them feel better and then thanked the Force that her skin was already red or the blush she felt would have been extremely noticeable.

_Let there be truth between your heart and the Force. All else is transitory._

Frip stuck his head out of a nearby alcove and gave her an inquisitive look. "What noise is all this?" The little Ishi Tib asked.

Ashla stood stood and started picking up the scattered tools that lay around her. "Nothing. Just having trouble concentrating today is all."

"Miss him, we all do." Frip gave her a reassuring smile. Had her thoughts betrayed her or was it just that obvious what she had been thinking about? "Know you do, that the Force protects him."

"Well, it doesn't quite work that way. The will of the Force acts as it will and is not influenced by the doings of any being." She said, then added to herself, may the Light Side bring him back to me.

"Wish he were here, I do. His help I need with stoopa Earth crops."

"What's the issue now?" She asked, knowing Frip was referring to coca plants they had recently obtained from the clone, Neyo, for a transport job. Their crew's leader, Brakatak had hoped to cultivate the strange plants into a brand new narcotic for the spice-starved Empire.

"Come. You see." Frip crooked one finger beckoning her to follow.

She followed Frip to the new greenhouse the crew had built to house the earth plants. In the center of the room were four large drums filled with soil from the planet Earth. According to Neyo, the dirt was essential to successfully cultivate the coca plants. Glaring bright lights lit the room and gurgling water was pumped slowly to the plants. Along the rear wall of the greenhouse a dozen two meter tall plants stretched towards the thin Martian sunlight streaking in through the roof panels.

"You Jedi, when you no good, you be AgriCorp's workers, right?" Frip asked as he waved his green hand toward the ten scraggly plants sprouting from the barrels. "So to be Jedi you know plants?"

"Not exactly." Ashla circled the barrels, trying to tell what was wrong with them by feeling them in the Force. "If you weren't chosen by a Master as a padawan you were eventually sent by the Temple to be part of the Agricultural Corps, or the Exploratory, Education, or Medical Corps. Some younglings left the Order, usually around fourteen or so, if they weren't chosen. We didn't have any AgriCorp's . . . rejections in the Bear Clan. The Clone War was soaking up so many Jedi casualties that the Council had begun a program of assigning padawans to Jedi Knights."

"So never were you part of the Green Thumb Jedi?"

"No, I never did have much interest in them, though the study of the Living Force is fascinating." Ashla made a note to consider merging the AgriCorp's philosophy with that of the new order she would create. They had too many good notions and ideas to simply be forgotten.

"Figure out you must, why these coca seem sickly while Jason's weeds over there flourish." Frip pointed at the healthier looking plants along the wall. Each of them stretched taller than Ashla's montrals, yet she was surprised to see they had been planted and had taken root in a section of floor that was nothing more than the iron-rich, red soil of Mars.

"I don't know what to say. Earth crops can grow on Mars but they don't thrive or provide large yields like they would on their homeworld. Something to do with the abundance of potassium there." She ran her fingers over the green, five-fingered leaves and pulled away. Her hand itched whenever she came in contact with Earth crops. She wondered why she didn't break out in hives every time she and Jason kissed.

Everything around the homestead was making her think of him, even these stoopa 'weeds' of his. I need to get out of here for a while.

"Rare mineral in Home Galaxy. Very, very pricey fertilizer these worlds could make for back in Old Empire."

"I thought you liked being a pirate." Ashla grinned.

"Me do, just not like getting blasted at. This Earth spice supposed to make us wealthy like Jabba the Hutt, now it look like we have to plant more seeds and try again." Frip hung his shoulders in frustration. He looked up at Jason's plants in confusion. "Weeds? Me so confused."

Ashla patted him on the head and walked towards the door. "I wouldn't chop them down just yet. Jason must have known what he was doing. Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten Neyo to secure him some of their seeds."

"But you no can eat them or snort up nose like Earth Spice."

"I don't know. They look kind of like tabac. Maybe you can smoke them in a cigarra?" Ashla suggested. It didn't matter either way because she would refrain from partaking of any plant from Earth as long as she kept having allergic reactions.

"Maybe me will. In afternoon when Brakatak get back from city with Erw and Raf."

"I'm heading there now. I need to get my mind off of some things." Ashla said.

"Alright, stay safe you will."

Will do, Ashla thought as she passed under the Agen's Light on her way to the airspeeder bay. She climbed aboard her Narglatch AirTech XJ-6 a moment later and started the twin turbojet engines. They purred to life in front of her as she lifted off.

As soon as she cleared the hanger bay she banked the airspeeder towards the city, hoping for a quiet day away from her troubles.

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**Royal Family Wing, Martian Imperial Palace, Core District, Culter City**

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Standra and the other handmaidens hurried with Phasma's hair, make up and wardrobe. The Rodian directed each of the other girls through their duties as Phasma selected her outfit for the surprise occasion.

Until an hour ago she had been attending classes at the Martian Academy, unaware the day would be unlike any other. But then news had arrived from the _StarGate_ exploratory vessel of the arrival of three hyperspace scouts who had arrived at their position and were about to attempt an unapproved blind jump towards the planet in the Epsilon Eridani system, that the Empire had targeted as the site of their first extra-system colony.

Though reckless and dangerous, the simple act was being viewed by the populace of Mars as a reminder of the days of the early Republic, when explorers bravely blazed hyperlanes across the cosmos and expanded civilization towards the Outer Rim. Or they ended up as fiery wrecks after impacting with unseen asteroids, which was still a very real possibility for the three intrepid explorers. Gossip amongst Phasma's handmaidens put the odds at only one of the three scouts making it to the system in one piece.

It was an acceptable loss for civilization to expand in the Empire. Phasma thought her new friend Jill Harris would be appalled and smiled. Imperials were a tougher breed than their Terran neighbors.

About the time the hyperspace scouts had made their jump the mayor of Culter City had contacted her about the possibility of a public appearance to celebrate the New Empire's first colony. The HoloNews would be broadcasting the arrival of the _StarGate_ if the explorers made it through and would hopefully be showing the landing of the first Space Troopers on the surface of a world named Epsilon Eridani B. What a boring Earth name for the planet, she thought. The colonists that were set to follow were mainly Twi'lek clones. Perhaps they would have a better name for their new home.

Standra picked up an astromech-white gown with shimmer silk sleeves that had been laid across Phasma's sleeper. Two handmaidens held the dress up high as Phasma slipped her arms into the sleeves, then they let it fall down across her frame. Though snug against her torso the dress flowed gracefully around her legs. Her shortest handmaiden, a Lurmen, approached and fastened a thick silver belt around her waist. At the same time her Elomin handmaiden fastened another silver adornment around her neck. The necklace was a series of rectangles with chalcedony waves, which Phasma had chosen as her symbol of office. Lastly, the two handmaidens, a green Twi'lek and a blonde human, finished with her hair, which was braided up into a large dome at the back of her head with a single thick braid that ran down the length of her back. They then sprayed her with a conservative amount of Nlorna flower perfume.

"Will my father be attending the celebration?" Phasma asked Standra.

"The messenger from the mayor didn't say. But I talked to the majordomo earlier and he said the Emperor would be busy with the Regent's Council for most of the afternoon."

Phasma frowned, "I had forgotten that that was today. Father has fewer and fewer military briefings these days, as opposed to when we first arrived here after the 'big jump'."

"Please, don't remind me of that horrible time. I remember waking up aboard our transport, blind as a mynock and hungry as a rancor, and yet I still lost my dinner. Floating around in that zero-g mess was no day at the podraces, I can assure you." Standra said, causing the rest of the handmaidens and even Phasma to giggle at the image.

"And yet look how far we've come. After today we truly will be an Empire." Phasma's voice was filled with pride.

"No small thanks to your family's guidance, your Highness." The Elomin handmaiden said. Phasma tried not to blush. All she ever wanted was to serve in the Imperial Navy, and now she was the future sovereign leader of millions. It was daunting beyond belief when she thought of it. She hoped that when the day came she would be ready for it.

"We are finished, my Lady." Standra announced. The handmaidens backed away from Phasma allowing her to walk over to her full length mirror and inspect her appearance. The young princess was happy with what she saw. She was a month short of her thirteenth life day and was pleased when her father informed her that she was quickly turning into the beauty her mother had been when she was the Queen of Naboo.

"Notify my shuttle that I am on my way to the landing docks." She told Standra.

"Your escort is already standing by."

"Excellent. Then let us not keep the beings of Mars waiting any longer. Today shall be about celebration." Phasma strolled towards the massive, wroshyr wood double doors that led out of her bed chamber. The handmaidens donned their colorful robes that concealed their personal weapons and fell in behind her. It wasn't widely known but each of the females was an accomplished fighter and a member of the Imperial Guard.

When the door swung open Phasma was not surprised to find Jill Harris patiently waiting for her. Jill gave her a respectful bow, as was protocol for a member of the court. The First Lady of the North American Union had recently taken on a new role in the Empire. After the disaster of the Earth 2 genocide it was widely rumored that her presence here on Mars had prevented the leader of the earthlings from unleashing their _planechanga_ on the red planet. Phasma knew better. They had been spared by the fact that the Earth and Mars had Sol between them when their weapon was unleashed. Thank the Force the weapon had been destroyed.

When Phasma beckoned for Jill to rise she stepped forward and gave her friend a warm embrace. "How is your day going, my friend?"

"It goes well. Thank you again for letting Cameron and Griffon attend school with children . . . oops, younglings their own age. Though having them and the annoying robot out from underneath my feet every waking minute leads to some dull moments cooped up here in the palace." The earthling said.

"I'm sorry to hear that, though I am certain that your boys will excel in their studies if the intellect of their mother is any indication. Milky Way Academy Prep is supposed to be one of the finest, if not the most expensive primary school for younglings in the capital."

"That's what I've been told."

"As for your boredom, you may be in luck today. My own classes at the Academy were cut short for the day due to the imminent arrival of our exploratory vessel over the Empire's first exocolony. I was heading to Tarkin Square for a public viewing of our landing in the Epsilon Eridani System. Would you care to join me?"

"I would be delighted. I remember watching fifteen years ago when the Armstrong Lander touched down here on Mars. Everyone on Earth remembers where they were that day."

Phasma turned and started walking towards the landing pads near the finally completed Royal Gardens. "I must say, this excitement is new for the Empire. In the Old Empire the landing on a new world happened almost a dozen times every standard week. The HoloNews wouldn't even report something so mundane. Yet here, stranded and adrift as we initially were, this is a monumental achievement. One we are hoping to duplicate hundreds of times over in the next half century."

"And I hope that the Earth is right next to you, claiming worlds of our own. A new Space Race, as it were."

Phasma frowned at the notion. "I'm afraid the only way Earthlings will leave their planet again will be in the service of the 1st Martian Empire. As vassals or slaves."

Jill scowled and took a stutter step, falling slightly behind the princess. The Terran didn't bother trying to engage in any more chatter on the way to the shuttle.

Good, Phasma thought. Today was about the future, not the war. Today Mars would know peace.

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**Deko Neimodia Commercial District, Culter City, Ares Vallis, Imperial Mars**

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Ashla weaved her airspeeder around a delayed _Firefly_ class mid-bulk transport as she raced down the prematurely-named Boulevard of the Crushing of the Aboriginals. The skylane had detoured slowly when she had entered the northern riverfront districts of the metropolis. Massive, twenty story-tall construction droids blocked several lanes of traffic as they worked on the New Galaxies Opera House that was due to open next month. The droids had backed up air and ground vehicles for blocks.

Airspeeders slowed to a bantha's pace while schutta daredevils on swoop bikes squeezed through the gaps between the wider vehicles. She feared this bumper-to-bumper congestion would prevent her from finding any sort of relief from the tension she had been feeling back at the homestead.

"By the Force, I just want to relax." she growled.

At least she was in the shade, she thought. The Remembrance of Toola Towers, a pair of skyscraping cloudcutters, blocked the bright light of Sol from baking her in the open top airspeeder. She couldn't recall the weather of Mars ever being as scorching as it was today.

The tell-tale plume of a rocket suddenly shot from one of the balconies near the fiftieth floor. She squinted to block Sol's light as she searched for an unseen rebel terrorist. Fearing the packed skylanes were under attack, she tried frantically to maneuver her XJ-6 out of the line of fire but a Kerkodian in a sky lorry blocked her in.

Just before the projectile impacted with the skylane traffic it exploded into a colorful, star-shaped firework. Ashla reached out with the Force and located a pair of mischievous Kitonak younglings loading their launcher for another burst. The duo was laughing and she sensed a celebratory mood from the pranksters. Just as she was about to write off the incident as simple youngling misbehavior several more random bursts of fireworks erupted across the skyline. Vehicle horns blared out from skylane and roadway traffic alike, filling the red-lined canyons with ear-splitting noise. An older human male several floors above the Kitonaks started waving an Old Empire banner back and forth from his balcony.

"By the Universal Force, what is going on?" Was the war over? Could Jason avoid the fighting, she thought as she activated her airspeeder's mid-range hyperwave? The HoloNet ran at least twenty planetary stations that broadcast audio music, news and sports. She switched stations until she found one of the capital's three news channels.

". . . the _StarGate_ has confirmed the navi coordinates from the hyperspace scouts. The Space Ministry has confirmed that Emperor Yos has given his permission for the exploratory vessel to make their own jump along the path those brave explorers have carved for the Empire's glory." an excited broadcaster reported. "We're not sure at this time whether or not the _StarGate_ has made her jump, since CommScan sensors here on Mars can only detect her movements within the system's borders. Since it is a reported ten minute hyperjump, the next thing we may hear is the _StarGate's_ confirmation of her arrival in orbit around the exoplanet in the Epsilon Eridani . . ."

Ashla wondered what all the excitement was about. Planets were discovered and settled every day. Granted, this was the first extra-solar system planet the New Empire had reached and they had amazingly gone halfway there on only their sublight drive, but was it really a reason for celebration? Maybe the beings of Mars were using it as a way to thumb their noses at Earth after the near-humans there had been able to destroy the Empire's first colony on Earth 2, she thought.

The traffic eased up as she moved past the construction zone. She tried to pay attention to both the hyperwave broadcast as well as the accelerating vehicles around her. Being born a Force using member of a species that could echolocate had its perks.

She passed over the marshaling yards of Precinct 4 of the Culter City Guard. Red ranks of armored police troopers were forming up in the yard adjacent to the landing pads. Many of them carried body-length riot shields. AT-RTs were being loaded aboard MAAT/i while gravtrucks stood by to load the CCG troopers and piles of weapons and equipment stacked neatly along the parade ground. More red-armored officers addressed the neat ranks. It looked to Ashla as if they were turning out for battle.

More fireworks burst across the city, followed by a barrage of streamers launched from a nearby skyhook. The Shock Troopers must be turning out to make sure the celebrations don't get out of hand, Ashla thought. She put the police forces out of her mind as her airspeeder left the CCG Precinct House in her rearview mirror.

The hyperwave continued, "By special proclamation of the Mayor, today is to be declared a work holiday and all residents of the Empire are invited to join the city council in viewing the landing on HoloNews Channel 1. Or join the Mayor himself in Tarkin Square this afternoon where the event will be projected on the giant vidscreens around the square. Princess Phasma herself is rumored to be attending . . ."

That might be what I need to get my mind off of things, Ashla thought. She didn't particularly care one way or another about the new colony but the party promised to be spectacular, if not last minute. She wondered if she should comm Ashlei and Keatly to join her but decided she'd rather remain alone. They would just worry about how she was doing with Jason gone. She was a Jedi Knight, for Force's sake, she didn't need anyone worrying over her.

By the time she neared the city center traffic was starting to back up once again. Thousands of beings seemed to be pouring into the heart of the capital, Tarkin Square.

Well, at least I'll have a chance to search for Force potentials, she thought, especially if beings are bringing their younglings to the Mayor's party. Being raised in the Jedi Temple had left her with the belief that the younger one was when they started their training the better a Jedi he/she would become. Though if she was to form a new order here she would have to reconsider certain tenets of the Jedi Code. The Milky Way order would not be a mirror of the Home Galaxy's. Master Kolar had told her the Force would take a new path here.

She found a parking bay a kilometer from the square. She didn't mind walking, especially on such a warm day, and joined the throngs of beings moving toward the city center. Exhilaration and excitement filled the air. Every block had a different roadway performer and she had to move quickly to avoid a Twi'lek firebreather. Younglings giggled and ran up and down the roadway with balloons tied to their wrists. They're having a much different childhood than I, she mused.

She looked up at the cloud-cutting Tarkin Tower that dwarfed the rest of the buildings in the metropolis. Several military shuttles were circling the landing docks halfway up the military headquarters. The Emperor and his goons must be busy today, she observed.

She reached out with the Force as she walked, passively scanning for any with being with the slightest Force sensitivity. She didn't find anything worth her concern or worth her attention.

She walked on.

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**Grand Atrium, Imperial Mercantile Exchange, Junction of Tapani Boulevard with Tarkin's Square**

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"I'm sorry. I was rude back at the Palace." Phasma quietly whispered to Jill.

"It's ok, Phasma. It's only natural that you would have pride in your Empire. But you should also remember that those of us not of the Empire can find strength in our own civilizations. Diversity does not mean weakness." Jill whispered back.

Outside on the 2nd floor reviewing balcony Mayor Chata Mantu was addressing the throngs of beings slowly filling up the open spaces of Tarkin's Square. Sporadic cheers rang out for the images being played by the HoloNet channels of the live hyperwave feed from orbit around the planet in the Epsilon Eridani system. Those images were coming from holocams aboard the _StarGate_ which had just successfully arrived at the colony world to join the two hyperspace scout vessels.

"I am happy to see an elected official here on Mars." Jill pointed at the Mayor. "I can get used to him being part stingray just as I hope the citizens of the Empire can get used to a small taste of democracy."

Phasma hesitated, then nodded in agreement while she bit her lip. Today was not the day for argument and Phasma didn't have the heart to inform the earthling that Culter City's mayor was nothing more than a political appointee. The blue and pink Selkath was one of Moff Culter's top terraformers. He held several prestigious degrees in urban development and as such was believed to be a natural choice for the rather powerless position of mayor. The city council that was in charge of building Culter City had been selected in much the same way. Democracy had died in the Old Republic with much the same thunderous applause as that which poured forth from the crowds below.

If this castaway Empire was to survive it would only be with the guidance of the strong and swift. The Clone Wars taught that civilizations rose and fell on the events of a moment.

Phasma slowly realized that her name was filling the antechamber. The thousands of beings who packed the square outside were chanting it over and over until the mantra grew into a vibrant wall of sound.

Mayor Mantu introduced her and turned and motioned for her to take the speaker's dais. Phasma stepped forward, the adulation of her Empire calling her onward.

Jill touched her elbow slightly, giving the young Princess pause. "We have a story of an ancient Empire on Earth that once had a triumphant conqueror. When that conqueror returned home he led a great parade in which he drove a chariot through a cheering mob. In his chariot he had a slave who whispered something in his ear." The earthling said.

Phasma worried about the impatience of the crowd but at the same time she was always intrigued by the dignified wisdom of the older woman. She hesitated for a moment longer, "What did the slave say?"

"He whispered, 'Remember that you are mortal.'"

Phasma nodded in understanding. Pride hyperjumps before the fatal gravity well. The Empire was still young and fragile and the House of Yos held a delicate grip on the reins of power. But the chanting of her name outside roused her from her worries. Her father had told her to embrace the beings of the Empire, to love them and they will return the love and follow her anywhere. Now was the time to make them hers.

Phasma stepped out into the warm Martian sunlight and approached the raised speaker's platform. Several Imperial Guardsmen lined the blue carpet leading to the podium. A massive cheer went up as the thousands in the square spotted her. Several beings in the crowd lit off fireworks to add to the drowning din. She returned a dignified wave, which just made the beings below cheer louder. She stepped up to the dais and had to wait several minutes for the noise to die down.

Finally, after what seemed like enough time to leave her ears ringing for the next week, the crowd quieted down enough for her to begin a speech that she had prepared on her shuttle ride from the palace. She pointed to the giant monitors showing the _StarGate_ and the new exoplanet and then slowly waved her hands over the crowd.

"We were slaves and residents of the Old Republic and the Old Empire." She began slowly.

"The frontiers of Wild Space and the Unknown Regions were distant territory to the majority of us."

"And now we have gone beyond those distant sectors, to a place that goes by the primitive name of Mars. A place where we found ourselves alone and adrift."

"We were bounded by Sol, the void we have crossed, and the planet we have terraformed. Yet the open hyperlane still softly calls. Our little terraqueous Mars is the madhouse of those hundreds, thousands, millions of worlds we left behind. We, who cannot even put our home system in order, we who are riven with rivalry and hatred of our new neighbor Earth, are we to venture out into the Void?" The was an ethereal silence that passed over the crowd as they listened to her words

"By the time we're ready to expand the Empire beyond even the Orion-Cygnus Arm of this Galaxy we will have changed. The simple passage of so many generations will have changed us. Necessity will have changed us. We're an adaptable collection of beings. It will not be us who reach the Mid-Rim nor the Core regions of this Galaxy. It will be an Empire very like us." She glanced back into the atrium for a fraction of a second. Jill smiled encouragement back at her and she thought that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have Earth as an ally rather than an enemy.

"This new Empire will have more of our strengths and fewer of our weaknesses. It will be more confident, far-seeing, capable and prudent. For despite all of our failings, despite our limitations and fallibilities, we of the Empire are capable of greatness." She pointed again to the holoscreens of the _StarGate._ "What new wonders, undreamt of in our time, will we have wrought in another generation? And another? How far will our nomadic civilization have wandered by the end of the next century? And the next millennium?"

"Our remote descendants, safely arrayed on the remote future planets of the Empire and beyond, will be unified. By their common heritage, by their regard for their home planet and by the knowledge that whatever other life there may be in this new Galaxy, the only true Imperials come from Mars. They will gaze up and strain to find the red dot in their skies. They will marvel at how vulnerable the repository of the Empire's raw potential once was. How perilous our infancy. How humble our beginnings. How many hyperspace lanes we had to cross."

"Before we found our way."

At the conclusion of her speech the crowd cheered as the _StarGate_ launched pyrotechnic rockets over the new world to celebrate their monumental achievement.

Just look what you've accomplished Father, Phasma thought as she smiled and waved to the crowd. You've taken us to the stars.

She looked up toward Tarkin Tower. She spotted it over the top of the Cheiwab Amalgamated Pharmaceuticals building. Her gaze followed the red spire into the sky until her eyes lit upon the Emperor's Council Chambers high atop the military headquarter's peak.

And then it exploded, and along with it, Phasma's entire world.

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**Tarkin's Square**

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Ashla was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't realize, had never realized, how many admiring glances she drew. She was a slender, athletic, young female with waist length head-tails that billowed behind her, a delicate red and white complexion and a distant look in her eyes. Add to that the two lightsabers at her hips and it was enough to make any being, male or female, take notice of her.

If there was an artistic competition for the concept of W_inner,_ a simple holopic of Ashla at that moment would have won it. Females in particular looked at her, her sure stride and air of confidence, and made various resolutions to be more like this self-confident superwoman, whoever she was.

But that wasn't how it felt to Ashla. She allowed herself a rueful half smile. I'd give it all up to see one self-stylized 'Trekie' again.

It was near enough to a joke to make her smile. She quickened her pace as she plunged into the growing crowd filling Tarkin's Square.

She found a place to stand several meters from the front atrium of the Imperial Mercantile Exchange. She couldn't get any closer to the speaker due to the growing press of the crowd. In this heat she had just enough elbow room to remain comfortable.

Above her a Selkath was addressing the crowd regarding the exploratory mission. Ashla had no idea who the being was until someone in the mob mentioned that he was the Mayor. Mayor Fish-face or whatever his name was soon introduced the Heir to the Empire, Princess Phasma.

The young girl took the podium, accompanied by a roaring cheer from the beings around Ashla. Phasma waved to the crowd and waited for overwhelming din to quiet down. Ashla squinted her eyes and tried to focus on the young royal. There was something very familiar about her that Ashla couldn't quite put her finger on.

The Princess started into a speech concerning the destiny of the New Empire. Her voice carried across the packed throngs by audicasters hidden around the city center. Her face came back to Ashla from across the years.

Ashla's memories returned to her all at once. She had met this girl once before but the girl had been older at the time.

It had been during the first year of the Clone War at the Jedi Temple. Ashla's fellow Togruta, Ahsoka Tano, had just returned from a mission with her Master on Teth. It was something to do with a Hutt's newborn. Ahsoka had been showing an important Republic Senator around the Jedi Temple and had introduced the two of them when they had encountered Ashla on her way to a meditation session with the Bear Clan and Master Secura. Ashla remembered that face from almost fifteen years ago.

It was the same face that now stared out at the crowds filling Tarkin's Square.

How could this be? The Princess was the same age Ashla had been when Master Kolar had been struck down as the first victim of the Jedi Purge. The same age Ashla had been when she had been forced to flee Coruscant. The age where a being was no longer a youngling but not quite an adult.

Ashla was torn from her memories as a thunderous applause rose in response to the conclusion of the Princess's speech. What was the name of that Senator, Ashla struggled to remember, and why did Princess Phasma wear the same face?

Ashla was so wrapped up in her confusion that she almost missed the fact that someone in the crowd was using the Force.

Suddenly a loud roar deafened the Square. Ashla turned with the thousands in the square to face the cloud cutting Tarkin Tower as the top stories erupted in a cascade of exploding durasteel. Airspeeder sized sheets of plasticrete rained down on the blocks surrounding the military headquarters.

Hundreds of screams and shouts arose from the crowd. Just when they were about to turn into a fleeing mob hidden detonation charges exploded near the front of the crowd. Duracrete, plastoid and body parts shot through the throng like shrapnel from a thermal detonator.

Ashla fought to one side of the stampeding herd of beings fleeing away from the now burning balcony. She followed the training that had been drilled into her for years at the Jedi Temple and focused on the will of the Light Side.

In the crowd she could feel a tidal wave of fear and despair, but also something else. She could sense beings filled with aggression and a sense of professionalism, beings who were there to kill and murder. She could also detect that another being in the crowd was using a weak touch of battle meditation to direct the assassins who were now advancing as a team towards the balcony.

Ashla looked up and saw the Princess. Phasma was horribly exposed above the crowd. Suddenly there was a flash of blue as an Imperial Guardsmen jumped in front of her. The bodyguard was just in time as a flash of blaster bolt, intended for the Princess, caught him square in the back. The dying Guardsmen knocked Phasma to the ground with his last reserve of energy before collapsing.

"Sniper." Ashla growled. She scanned the skyline for the hidden assailant. The Force located him on the 54th floor of the Industrial Automation building almost a kilometer away.

This wasn't her fight, she thought. Phasma was the living embodiment of the Empire, an Empire that had nearly hunted Ashla's kind to their extinction. She turned once more and saw the frightened form of Phasma kneeling on the ground beside her shattered podium. Outnumbered Guardsmen and handmaidens were now fighting green-skinned, reptilian assassins that were climbing up over the balcony's railings.

Phasma was the same age she had been when she had lost her Master, when she had lost everything. Cast out in the cold Galaxy with no protection. Ashla couldn't sit by and let that happen to another being. Not while she was a Jedi Knight.

Ashla pulled both lightsabers from her belt and ignited their blue and green blades. She focused on becoming one with the Light Side and everything Master Kolar had taught her. She located the sniper again.

Ashla attacked.

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**Collapsed Balcony, Imperial Mercantile Exchange**

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Phasma's mind tried to reconcile itself with what it was witnessing. Her eyes were riveted on the billowing black smoke cloud pouring forth from high above Tarkin's Tower.

"Father . . ." she choked out, knowing that he had been holding a meeting up there today.

A wave of heat washed over her as flames flashed upwards from somewhere below the dais. The whole structure lurched forward as its supports buckled and failed. A loud snapping sound came from behind her as the balcony pulled away from the stock exchange's edifice, leaving the structure tilting downwards towards the square at a thirty degree angle.

Phasma was caught off balance and dropped to her knees. One hand reached for the podium to catch her balance. The wooden podium shattered into splinters as one of her Guardsmen smashed into it. He knocked the remains to the side as he attempted to throw his own body between her and the crowd.

What was he reacting to? Everything was happening so fast that Phasma could barely comprehend the events swirling around her. The armored Royal Guardsmen was either reacting either to the explosion at the front of the crowd or some unseen danger. Whatever was occurring Phasma suddenly realized her life was in danger.

A high powered bolt burned through the guard's chest. Huge spouts of blood and tissue erupted from his center mass, spattering her with blow back. A barely perceptible pain in her right hand made her look down in shock. The bolt had neatly clipped off the last two digits and left a small stump where her fingers used to be.

"Stay down! For the love of God, stay down!" Jill Harris screamed from the atrium. Phasma looked back towards the earthling, who was being pulled away by the Mayor. The Selkath sheltered the earthling with his own body just as a well-placed bolt seared its way through his face. Sidestepping the collapsing corpse, Phasma's remaining few Guardsmen and handmaidens rushed out upon the balcony.

The handmaidens rushed to the Princess while the four Guardsmen formed a defensive half circle in front of her. For the first time Phasma heard screams coming from the square. She looked forward through the legs of her defenders and saw dozens of wounded and dead near the front of the crowd, victims of the bomb that had been placed underneath the balcony supports. Thousands more were attempting to flee the chaos unleashed by the sudden attack.

She was quick to spot other beings moving in the crowd, rushing forward instead of back. These green, reptilian-looking beings wore form-fitting, black outfits. Some of them carried blasters or forcepikes. All of them wore menacing ceremonial daggers tucked into their waistbands.

"Loags." She gasped as the first ones leaped through the flames left by the explosion and quickly scaled the railing.

The first assassin over the low wall hurled a thermal detonator ahead of him. The explosive device must have had been set for impact because as soon as it landed at the feet of the nearest Guardsmen it exploded and blew him into three large, messy pieces of burnt meat. The explosion picked up Phasma and her handmaidens and tossed them backwards across the balcony.

Phasma screamed in agony as she hit something hard and immovable and her right shoulder was wrenched out of place with a grinding pop. She rolled across the duracrete floor, every turn a flaring supernova of pain in her back and side. Dark purple suns opened in front of her eyes as she fought to hold onto consciousness. She attempted to push herself up off of the floor but collapsed, screaming again as white-hot flames seemed to blast down one side of her body.

The sharp crash of blades and forcepikes connecting drew her attention to the fight at the front of the balcony. Her three remaining Guardsmen, two of whom were grievously wounded, struggled valiantly against five times their number of assassins. Already five of the Loags lay dead at their feet while another flopped uselessly against the railing, futilely trying to stem the blood spraying from its sliced throat. Three of her handmaidens had fallen, killed by the shock wave and shrapnel of the explosive.

Suddenly Standra landed feet first on the floor beside her. The handmaiden didn't seem aware that her clothing was filthy and bloodstained. Phasma tried to cry out, to warn her that Standra was injured but Standra had her arms around the Princess and was dragging her away from the dais before she could protest. The pain was grotesque, unbearable, nauseating, and Phasma did pass out for a few seconds. Another white-dwarf of agony exploded somewhere inside of her. It woke her up again to a world filled with death and horror and the screaming of a small child.

After a few seconds she realized the small child was herself and Standra had done something to her shoulder. She felt the prick of a bacta shot in her neck, followed by the most delicious warmth that radiated from that point to ease all of her many hurts and outrages.

Standra laid Phasma back down again in order to pick up a dropped blaster lying nearby. The Princess looked back towards the melee again. Besides Standra, only a single handmaiden, the Elomin, and a Guardsman remained against ten of the attackers, and both of them were suffering from dozens of wounds. Neither of them would last very much longer. The Loag sensed victory was at hand and several of them surged around the defenders' flanks.

Standra unleashed a wild volley into their ranks just as a sniper bolt exploded her skull. In Phasma's mind the whole event occured as if it were moving in slow motion.

The Rodian's corpse impacted the floor in front of Phasma with a bone-crunching thud.

Phasma crawled to the far wall and put her back up to it. She wished in vain that she had some sort of weapon but nothing was within arm's reach. Though they were superb fighters her last two defenders wouldn't be able to hold off the attackers.

Three of the Loag slipped around them and advanced upon Phasma. Menace filled their eyes as they withdrew the daggers from their belts.

Phasma couldn't run. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged.

Maybe it was the shock from her injuries. Perhaps it was her mind rebelling against the carnage around her but her eyes moved away from the assassins to the flashes of green and blue lightsabers coming straight at her.

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**Tarkin's Square**

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The Jedi Knight crouched down and began to conserve her energy. After a decade of training for Form V of lightsaber combat she knew from experience how exhausting it could be.

She focused on the sniper. He was another of the reptilian aliens that were battling the dwindling number of Royal Guardsmen defending the Princess. Ashla wasn't familiar with the species but instinctively knew that they were deadly hunters. The sniper was alone in an empty apartment high above Boulevard of the Empress Teta's Fields in the Industrial Automation building. She felt the sniper as he searched for another target through the sites of his weapon.

The moment came. She felt the sniper's anticipation of a kill grow as his thumb slowly depressed the weapon's trigger stub.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force._

Ashla force leaped as the sniper pushed the trigger stub. Her focus allowed her to jump nine times her height. The will of the Force guided every millimeter of her jump.

She ignored her echolocation. She ignored her own eyes and instead put all of her trust into her training and the Light Side. At the peak of her leap she swung out with both lightsabers into a perfectly executed Shien maneuver named the Barrier of Blades. After travelling a distance of over a kilometer the sniper's bolt deflected off of both blades as she brought them up into the high guard position. Almost faster than her eye could follow the bolt returned along its trajectory where it smashed through the sniper's aiming scope, eye, brain and skull, plastering bits of blood, skull, and gray brain matter across the empty room.

The Jedi landed amidst the fires still burning underneath the slanting balcony. When she impacted the flames around her extinguished themselves as if they had been blown out by a hurricane. Her feet had no more than grazed the ground before she was airborne again, launching herself up and over the duracrete railing of the balcony.

She landed directly behind and within centimeters of one of the assassins. In the space of a heartbeat she employed a Falling Avalanche attack, bringing down both of her blades through the male with bone-jarring force. The dual lightsabers bisected the first attacker neatly from head to groin.

She paused for the lifetime of a blink and studied the carnage and chaos before her. Bodies of attackers and defenders alike were strewn haphazardly across the floor of the balcony. Some of the corpses rolled down the incline of the collapsed structure. The ground itself was slick with the copious amounts of blood that had been spilled here. It flowed freely down into the fire behind her.

Directly in front of her a wounded Royal Guardsman and an Elomin female, obviously one of the Princess's handmaidens, struggled valiantly to hold five attackers at bay with their forcepikes. Their efforts were in vain as three more assassins had slipped past their defense and were advancing on the wounded Princess with their daggers drawn. She rested against the far wall of the balcony with defiance written across her features, her hands reaching for a blaster just out of her reach.

The three advancing on the Princess were the obvious threat, but she would have to get past the five battling the Guardsmen first. Two of them must have sensed the danger to their rear and they began to turn back towards the balcony's wall.

That was all the time Ashla gave them. She simply retracted into the Force, her mind and body running along lanes that had been laid down for her by thousands of hours of training. Her training had not only left her a master of Shien, but also its Form V twin, Djem So. And a Djem So master was not passive. She had perfected the art of the counterattack.

She lunged at them with a Fluid Riposte attack. The diving lunge caught the assassins at the waist level. The green blade slashed through the thigh of the nearest male while the blue blade pierced the gut of another. The blue blade was driven half a meter out of the hapless assassin's spine. She spun to her left pulling the blade through the dying male's abdomen with a spray of cauterized burnt blood. She immediately retracted the blue blade and continued her assault with the green.

The shock of her counterattack forced the three other assassins back towards the wall. The handmaiden rushed forward and finished off the male who had lost his leg with a bone-crushing jab to the face from her forcepike.

Ashla didn't wait to see what happened with the outer fight as she focused on a burst of Force Speed into the three attackers who had just grabbed the Princess. One of them picked up the Princess and held her out in front of him with his blade to her throat. The other two crouched into a defensive stance with their daggers and blasters and awaited the Jedi's assault.

To the beings around her Ashla moved in a fluid blur of violent action. Suddenly she was airborne, one long, red leg pistoning out and into the sternum of the attacker on the left. His blaster discharged, sending up a shower of duracrete shrapnel as he slammed backwards into the wall. His head struck a glowlamp fixture with a wet crunch and he began a slow drop to the ground, trailing a greasy, organic smear down the wall.

Without pause Ashla's body spun like a small, self-contained tornado. One foot lashed out to strike the blaster hand of the assailant on the right, who had just jacked in a fresh mag of tibanna as she struck. The blaster pistol, a Merr-Sonn DD6, discharged a single bolt, directly into the eye socket of the assassin holding his dagger to Phasma's throat. The male was dead before he ever released his grip on his blade. She turned tightly with the direction of the kick, getting right inside the circle of her man, Ashla shot out her free hand, grabbed a wrist, extended it up, and slammed her other arm in under the elbow to snap the vulnerable joint with a terrible crack. In a flash, her weapon hand whipped backward and she opened his throat with the lightsaber. The wound was too large to immediately cauterize and a geyser of hot blood spilled out in a rush as she continued to spin, dragging the body of her victim around between her and the first male.

Only then did she strip the DD6 from the weak, rubbery grip of the male, who was already slumping out of her grasp. She felt fingers breaking as she wrenched it away.

She flipped the blaster to the Princess, knowing full well what the Empire had done to her kind. The pistol was already cocked. But she couldn't sense any sort of danger emanating from the young royal and turned her back to her to face the three assassins she had left behind.

Two flat cracks rang out as she realized the Princess had just finished off the prone figure by the wall. A slight change of stance and Phasma swung around and double tapped the male at her feet even though his life was already bleeding out of him. There wasn't any anger involved in the Princess's action as far as Ashla could detect, just a sense of fear. Fear over something that was lost. Ashla looked over her shoulder and caught the eye of the royal. They seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. Here on the balcony, in this moment they were allies. Phasma looked up at the burning Tarkin's Tower and Ashla realized just what was at stake. The fate of an Empire could be decided here on this shattered balcony.

In the momentary pause between attacks Ashla felt something, a disturbance in the Force. She faced the three remaining attackers at the wall. The two wounded defenders retreated behind her and put themselves in front of the Princess. The three assassins grinned at her and then reached over the outer wall in an effort to assist someone who was climbing over the railing.

Master Kolar had told her that others would come. Others who knew the ways of the Force. She was to gather them and train them. She was to form a new order here. If she failed it would be the end of the Jedi.

A hooded figure climbed over the wall and stood to the front of the surviving assassins. Their obvious leader, the being withdrew a rapier of pure Cortosis. The human figure pulled down her hood and drew herself up into the wild, sweeping attack position of Shii-Cho.

Ashla stood facing a Force Witch of Dathomir.

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**Collapsed review balcony, Imperial Mercantile Exchange**

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Phasma didn't know exactly who was who on the balcony anymore and she didn't have the time to find out. Something was happening in the city, or had already happened, she corrected herself as she scanned the gnarled, smoking ruins high atop Tarkin's Tower.

I need to find out if my father is still alive, she thought but I can't do that if I'm dead.

Her guard force was shattered, reduced to two battered survivors who had placed themselves between her and the assassins. "Where are our reinforcements?" She asked the Royal Guardsman.

"I don't know, your Highness. My helmet's comm gear is being jammed." he replied.

"There's no telling when the CCG will get here, Princess." Her handmaiden said, "I didn't see any of them here at the ceremony."

"Odd. Jill are you still with us?" She shouted back into the building.

"Alive and kicking!" The earthling shouted back.

That left the assassins themselves and her would-be guardian. By the Force was she really a Jedi?

The Togruta in question held two lightsabers, one green the other blue, high above her head in some sort of attack position. Phasma had never seen anyone with moves like the Jedi. The red female had been formless in her attack, like water.

Phasma knew what the surviving Loag were. They were members of an Assassin's Guild that must have made it through the 'big jump' along with the rest of the Home Galaxy's garbage. She hoped the three at the railing were the last of their kind but somehow doubted it. This kind of scum always had a way of coming back time and time again.

Their leader, however, was different. She was a human female a few years older than Phasma. Her long auburn hair was tied in elaborate braids. She discarded her cloak to reveal a form fitting lizard-skin armor adorned with glyphs of rancors. The girl appeared to be murmuring a chant beneath her breath. She had drawn a long, dark-gray sword and locked eyes with the Jedi.

"Princess Phasma, we are your death." One of the Loag called out.

"Be quiet, fool." The leader said. She put up an arm to block their advance. They looked to be physically pushed backwards. It was evident she struggled to keep them under her control. Was she a Force-user as well or did she control them through hypnosis of some sort? Phasma didn't know nor did she have the time to care. She raised her captured blaster pistol and thumbed a bolt through the nearest Loag's face.

The other two shrieked and hurled themselves over the wall in hasty retreat. They quickly lost themselves in the chaos that still filled the square as thousands fled the explosions.

Without a single sound the leader of the assassins thrust her sword at the Jedi's belly. The Togruta was too quick for her and as the blade struck she simply wasn't there anymore. The Togruta spun around to her left and parried the thrust. Shockingly, contact with the assassin's sword shorted out the Jedi's green lightsaber.

Cortosis, Phasma thought, recalling the legend that the rare material could disengage lightsabers for a few seconds when they made contact with a Jedi's weapon.

The Jedi didn't even blink. She stopped her swirling attack and held up her hand. The human matched her and held her hand mere centimeters from the Togruta's. Pieces of rubble and debris flew away from the two combatants like shrapnel. They were using the Force on each other and it was obvious by the way the human was sweating and struggling that the Togruta had the upper hand.

Phasma was close enough to hear them speaking to each other and she concentrated to hear their voices over the din of the Square.

"You know the Force, yet you lack training and discipline." The Jedi told her attacker.

"I knew enough spells to hide, just as you coward Jedi did. When slavers stole me from my world as a youngling I knew enough to conceal myself from the Empire's hunters. And I knew enough to control the Loag so that I could use their skills to fend off starvation."

"What is the Princess to you?"

"A job. A way to an end. Her death will make me enough aurodium to set myself up as an Imperial Lord."

"It doesn't need to be like that. The Force has thrown us together. I do not sense the Dark Side in you. Come with me and I could train you to follow the will of the Light Side and you will never know hunger again." The Togruta offered as her green lightsaber came back to life, the effects of the cortosis having worn off.

Phasma tried to make sense of it but only for a moment before it clicked inside her mind. Only Moff Seco would be so bold. Her father and the other Moffs had been fools not to see the game the Ploo Moff was playing. The explosion atop the tower and this attack all made sense. This was a coup at the highest levels of government and the only way it could succeed was over her dead body. Phasma wondered who was in on the plot and thought it ironic that the only being she could suddenly trust was a Jedi Knight.

The human assassin looked confused, as if she was considering the Jedi's offer. The Togruta obviously wasn't going to step aside and let her at her target and with Phasma alive, control of the Empire would remain with the House of Yos, which would leave the assassin even more hunted than she had been in the Old Empire.

"Did your Light Side tell you I was going to do this?" The human snarled and swung her blade cleanly through both of the Jedi's lightsabers, shorting them both out completely.

The Togruta didn't miss a beat. She performed an elegant back flip while extending the toe of her right foot. Her boot caught the human squarely in the temple knocking her out cold. She collapsed in the rubble, her exotic weapon skittering off the side of the balcony.

"Yes it did." The Togruta smiled down at the unconscious form.

The Jedi Knight turned and walked over towards Phasma. The Princess motioned for her guards to lower their weapons, which they reluctantly did. "Are you alright?" The Togruta asked.

"I think so. Some major bumps and bruises, as well as this." She held up the remains of her mangled fingers.

"I'm sure you'll be outfitted with the finest cybernetic the Empire can afford in no time, Lady Phasma." Phasma and the Togruta stared at each other in silence, as if they were both trying to unravel just what about the other that was slightly discomforting.

"You are a Jedi aren't you?" Phasma asked.

"I am of the mighty Bear Clan, Padawan of Master Agen Kolar, who was a terrorist and a criminal by Imperial decree, and a Jedi Knight with no temple affiliation here in the New Empire. My name is Ashla." The Jedi looked nervously at the Royal Guardsman and her handmaiden.

"You are safe here in my father's Empire, Ashla. Order 66, as well as many of Palpatine's dictates, have been rescinded."

"That is as it always should have been. The Jedi were never a threat to the Empire."

"No, there are certainly bigger dangers to deal with." Phasma looked at the wreckage around her. Ashla did the same and nodded in understanding.

The sound of plastoid boots running toward them drew her attention. From inside the building two red-armored Culter City Guardsmen appeared. "There she is!" one of them shouted. The two troopers climbed down onto the collapsed balcony and approached the group to the rear of the Jedi Knight. They came to a halt a meter behind Phasma's protector. Ashla never turned around to face them.

"Princess Phasma Yos, by orders of Theater Commander Seco, acting commander of all forces of the Empire during Operation _Diathim,_ you are hereby deemed a traitor to the 1st Martian Empire and sentenced to immediate execution." The troopers said as they raised their blasters in her direction.

Phasma took her eyes off of them and looked at Ashla. The Jedi had a sad expression across her face as if she regretted what she was about to do. Phasma nodded she understood how heavy the burden of duty could be.

Before they could push their blasting stubs the Togruta moved. Her back flip was a whir of blue and green light. She landed behind the two troopers and tucked her weapons into her belt. The headless bodies of the two troopers collapsed at her feet.

Phasma gasped. She wanted to thank the Jedi, but somehow felt Ashla didn't want her gratitude.

The Jedi moved over to the unconscious assassin, picking her up and placing her over her shoulder.

"Your Highness, we need to move. It's not safe here." The wounded Royal Guardsman said.

"There's no telling if more of Seco's hit men are on their way." The Elomin handmaiden added, "It's obvious that elements of the CCG have been compromised."

Phasma knew that she should discover her father's fate but she also knew that the fate of the Empire came first. She saw Jill Harris staring at her from the floor above. She thought the well-being of the beings of the Empire came before all other concerns, even her own life.

She turned to the Jedi, now carrying her former foe. "Some of those assassins are still out there. Can you deliver me safely to the HoloNews station near the Tarkin Tower?"

The Jedi held out a hand. "Come with me, if you want to live."


	69. Epilogue Harris

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500 meters over Highway 2, Skykomish River Valley, Washington State, NAU, Earth

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The older MV-22F Osprey pitched back and forth across the rain-swept valley the President's seat belt strained to keep him secure his crash seat. It was a far cry from his early days in office when he had traveled the world in the luxurious comfort of Air Force One. The events of the war made those recent times seem to have happened a lifetime ago.

Inside the red-lit cargo compartment a dozen different aides worked diligently at their laptops. He wished they could have saved more of the computers. The devices' storage capability was so much more valuable after the Empire ripped horrendous holes in the Internet's Cloud storage capabilities. Physical hard drives had long ago become redundant years ago, when most storage started being downloaded into virtual drives housed in remote servers. Those remote servers had been targeted by the Empire's phasers at the same time as the enemy's jamming technology had almost completely wiped out wireless and broadband communication on Earth.

"So much data lost." He sighed.

Across from him his young new Treasury Secretary, Cordell, worked diligently with the Under Secretary from Brazil. Both of them were armed with AI-automated laptops. They were struggling to merge the economies of the two former American Unions into the newly created United Earth's super-economy. It would have been no small task in the best of times and the difficulty was only compounded by wartime conditions.

Harris was tired. But even on a secretive mission like the one they were undertaking tonight he couldn't afford a moment of rest. If he had left his aides behind as the National Security Adviser had suggested out of security concerns, the President feared it would give the Empire a few hours of respite. The war would not wait for him. The Earth depended on him too much.

"Great news out of the Eurasian Union, Russia and Belarus are in and so are the Aussies out in the Pacific." His Foreign Under Secretary, Carlos, yelled over the thrumming noise of the twin tilt-rotor prop wash roaring outside the plane's hull. "The Empire has been pummeling their eastern seaboard for several weeks. Trying to block whatever they're up to in New Zealand. The Australian Air Force has taken a pounding and is almost non-existent at this point. They've got a government set up in some place called Towoomba. The Prime Minister states he's willing to commit their remaining armed forces to the United Earth government as well as merge their civilian government with ours, pending elections at the cessation of hostilities with the invaders."

"That's great." The President allowed himself a smile. One more country united in defense of their planet. "Any word out of New Zealand?" he shouted back.

The Under Secretary looked grim and just shook his head. The President didn't expect anything. The Empire had been sitting on the Kiwis for over a month now. Despite sporadic short-wave radio broadcasts from the south island he didn't hold out a lot of hope.

Even that wasn't as bad as the news out of China. Civil war had broken out in the northern part of that country now that the Empire had retreated from the Yangtze and given them space to breathe and fight over the ashes of what had once been one of the greatest nations on Earth.

Lightning flashed ahead of the crew compartment. It crisscrossed the sky well out over the Pacific as they headed towards the Seattle ruins. The rain that pummeled the plane was most likely toxic, due to the thousands of burning cities around the world. The plastics and synthesized chemicals of mankind were going up in a world-spanning blaze, as some news hack had called it. It was just another global disaster on top of a whole list of catastrophes Harris had to deal with on a daily basis.

The pilots wore night-vision goggles and flew with an advanced nap-of-the-earth system that was supposed to be a top military secret, the details of which Harris didn't need to know. Despite being only a few hundred feet off the ground Harris could tell the aircraft was descending. A series of thumps from outside the hull signaled the tiltrotors were configuring themselves into a vertical position for landing.

The half-dozen Secret Service agents at the rear loading ramp stood and took up defensive positions. Long gone were their dark suits and hidden holsters. Now they wore night-vision gear and full combat armor with prototype highly-reflective surfaces, designed -in theory, at least- to absorb laser-fire. They carried heavy assault rifles and powerful shotguns.

"Coming up on Woods Creek. Delta Force has confirmed they have the package, sir!" The crew chief yelled as a jostling thump and slide told of a slick landing.

Harris nodded that he understood. He motioned for the crew chief to lower the ramp and the exit dropped with a hydraulic whirring noise.

For several seconds they stared out at the rain. Like most towns on Earth Woods Creek was blacked out in a vain attempt to hide from the Empire's orbiting warships that prowled overhead. Though people didn't always have a choice in the matter since a good four billion people on the planet simply had no electricity to turn on anymore. Gone were Earth's coal burning, hydroelectric and nuclear powered energy plants. Solar-powered microgrids and isolated wind turbines fought desperately against the steady approach of another Dark Age. The few surviving smart-grids funneled any energy to hidden manufacturing plants that were being constructed around the globe.

Harris wished he had asked for some night-vision goggles of his own. The agents must have spotted something, because they all tensed up and pointed their rifles out into the darkness.

An object moved out of a nearby copse of trees. As it came closer the President was able to make out a restrained individual with a black hood over his head. The figure was advancing on them but wasn't moving its legs, instead he looked like he was suspended between two more individuals that Harris couldn't make out. The figure made it to the bottom of the ramp before Harris could just barely detect two human-shaped blobs flanking the prisoner.

The figures made their way into the crew compartment where the shackled prisoner was dropped onto the deck at the President's feet. The two blobs depowered the camouflage that had made them nearly invisible to reveal masked Delta Force operators. It was impressive even though Harris knew that their experimental Adaptiv uniforms involved some type of nanotechnology and carbon nanotubes.

"We took him outside of Anchorage, sir. Negative Imperial activity in the area. The Alaskans didn't realize we did the exfil until we were already back inside Canada." One of the operators reported.

"Good work, boys. Thank you." Harris said.

The two commandos saluted and then activated their camouflage system again. They instantly blended into the background of the cargo bay. The two nearly invisible blobs then stomped down the ramp and vanished into the night. The crew chief raised the ramp as the twin Allison 501-M80C engines revved up for take-off.

Harris sat back down in his crash seat. The agents placed the prisoner across from him. A momentary pang of betrayal and hatred coursed through him and he patiently waited for it to pass. He didn't try to fight it because it reminded him that he was still human but right now he needed to be the President and had no time for emotion. He was attempting to forge a coalition of all of Earth and was responsible for its surviving five billion souls, even those who foolishly tried to leave the fold.

"Remove his hood." he ordered. "Make sure we record this. I don't want anything misinterpreted later."

An agent did so. Another agent filmed the proceedings with an HVD camera as evidence. The commandos had blindfolded, gagged and left sound-muffling digital ear phones on the captive in an effort to leave him disoriented. Harris motioned for those to be removed as well. The agent did so, revealing the face of John Davis, the Vice President of the North American Union.

Davis glared at Harris with open hostility. "Pretty smooth. You initiating a policy of kidnapping American citizens abroad now?"

"Alaska is not, nor shall it ever be 'abroad'. No matter what that dimwit Governor Palin thinks." Harris replied hotly. They were at war with invaders from Mars and Alaska had chosen to secede. He and the Earth really didn't have time for treason at a time like this. "For God's sake, John, how could you throw in with such a maniac?"

"How could you sell us down the river with the Southerners? Was that a joke, making _Chairman_ Chavez your new VP of your bullshit Axis Pact of Earth fascism? If it was, I sure as hell wasn't laughing. And neither will you when he turns you out in the next election."

"He could do that and I welcome him to the job. The man is willing to fight the Empire, not run and hide in some Alaskan igloo and buddy up to Emperor Yos like the goddamn King of England!"

"Fight? Fight what? The aliens bomb us from space day after day. What are your advisors telling you? A million dead every day? Two million? Ten? And no way of punching back? There are stories that we did something up in Canada, smacked one of their ships from space, but where's the evidence?"

"Oh, we hit them with something special up there. But the lives and tech we lost with that project, well, the people can learn about it after the war. We've also stopped the aliens cold in Vegas." Harris retorted.

"After they curb stomped us in LA. Palin's got the right idea. He's already talking to one of them, some kind of Fleet Commander something or other. This Seco guy is gonna put the hurt on anything you throw at Palin. Once he's done with something else he's got cooking up on Mars he's promised to level everything south of the Rio Grande. All we have to give him in return is the Asians and Africans as a work force and they'll leave the rest of us alone. I don't like the slavery angle but it's either them or us. The Empire isn't going away anytime soon."

"You racist, evil bastard! What has the Alaskan government agreed to?"

"From my point of view the United Earth government is evil, Mr. President. Can't you see that you've already lost? You aren't ever going to throw them out of Vegas. We just can't fight them well enough. Who are you to fool the people of Earth into maintaining hope? To let us believe that we're something special compared to these supermen from the stars? Why should you be the one to lead us? You're doing nothing more than setting yourself up to be the Emperor of Earth. The emperor of a pile of rubble when the Imps get through with you."

Harris paused for a moment. The men and women in the crew compartment stared at Davis in disbelief. Harris could tell by the looks on their faces that they wanted to open the ramp again and push the former Vice President out. Davis sat back in his chair, his hands still bound behind him, daring Harris to reply.

Harris rubbed his eyes to try to ease some of the stress induced soreness. "Make sure the people hear what I have to say next." Harris told the agent with the camera.

Then he opened his eyes again and faced his former political ally. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an Emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule over or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, Asian, Arab, gentile, black man, Indian, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We all want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the good Earth is rich and can provide for everyone.

"The way of life can be free and beautiful. But we have lost the way.

"Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

"We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in, machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity, more than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness.

"Without these qualities life will be violent and all will be lost.

"The space shuttles and the internet have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now recordings of my voice are being sent out to reach millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of an archaic nation state system and a terroristic Empire that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To you John, and those out there who have heard me I say: do not despair.

"The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of aliens and men who fear the way of Earth's progress. The hate of men will pass and Emperors will die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men live liberty will never perish.

"John, don't give yourself to brutes like Palin or Yos, men who despise you and enslave you, who regiment your life, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder!

"Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not a machine! You are not cattle! You are a man! You have the love of humanity in your heart. You don't hate. Only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural. John, don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty!

"The people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. The people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then, in the name of democracy, let us use that power, let us all unite! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things brutes have risen to power here on Earth but they lie. They do not fulfill their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.

"John, in the name of democracy: let us all unite!"

"Unity." Davis spat on the floor of the plane. "You mean crawling on our bellies to those countries that have been beneath us all our lives. There needs to be a ruling elite who _unify_ and run this new regime you and 'El Presidente' are establishing. Yet you're too ignorant and full of schoolyard fantasies of JFK and FDR to recognize how the world really works."

"The United Earth will be a democracy based on the will of the people."

"Bullshit. I've heard enough of your socialist lies."

With fatigue wearing him down Harris couldn't keep his rage in check any longer. He jumped across the cabin and grabbed his old friend by the front of his fatigues, lifting him completely up and out of his seat until they were face to face. His Secret Service agents took a step forward but didn't interfere.

"And I am sick of your bigotry and lies. Palin's little act of treason has cost time and resources we don't have." Harris shook the man. "For God's sake John, they took my wife and kids and killed God knows how many billions of others. You really think throwing in with them will make them treat you like equals? You sold out your fellow man. You'll be little more than the crap they scrape off their boots when this is over."

"Yeah, but we'll be alive and the wetbacks won't." Davis sneered.

Harris shoved him back into his seat. "I'll have you know there are quite a few people in the new government who wanted you executed out of hand. But I figured that would make you a martyr to the Alaskans. Besides, you and I go back a ways."

Davis just stared up at him in defiance. "Don't do me any favors. You and I both know the best thing you could do for the United Earth is throw me out of the back of this plane."

Harris hesitated. The demands of the War were slowly dragging him down paths he would never have even considered before. It would be the easiest thing to do, he thought, but it would also be wrong. "No, you'll stand trial for your crimes. If not now, then once we kick the Empire off of Earth. If Palin lives he can face justice right alongside you. And God have mercy on both your souls."

He nodded at one of his agents, who stepped forward and jabbed a hypodermic syringe into Davis's neck. The former vice president started to protest but passed into unconsciousness before he could utter a sound. Part of Harris was envious of the sleep Davis was about to get. What I wouldn't do for a few extra hours to catch up, he thought. Of course, every moment he spent working was another moment closer to victory and getting his family back, and so he pushed on.

"Mr. President, you might want to look at this." The crew chief called from the forward compartment. The airman had been in contact with the flight crew while he had been speaking with Davis. Harris walked forward, bracing his hands on the overhead hull for balance. After a moment he reached the crewman.

"Look, sir." The chief indicated that he should duck into the cockpit.

As Harris stepped into the cockpit the _Osprey_ was clawing for altitude and heading north into the Cascades. To the west hundreds of fires raged up and down the Puget Sound despite the storm coming in from the Pacific. He had already seen scores of similar vistas across North America yet every new one affected him the same, hardening his resolve to fight for a victory over the invaders from the Empire.

"See anything missing, sir?" The co-pilot asked while thumbing towards the sky over the ruins of Seattle.

Harris peered toward the distant fires but couldn't figure out what the flight crew was indicating.

"Sir, if it's all right with you I'd like to take us up a little above the cloud cover and show you what we mean?" The pilot requested.

"If you're sure the Empire won't pick us up, go right ahead." Harris replied.

The Air Force pilot pulled back on his stick and their view disappeared as they entered the rain clouds above. A few seconds later they were through. Rain water beaded off their windshield. Above them millions of stars were visible in the Washington skies, clear and bright thanks to the reduction in light pollution caused by the destruction of so much of Earth's power grid.

"How about now, sir?" The pilot asked.

The President scanned back and forth across the empty skies. "Where are all the Star Destroyers? At this height you boys can usually spot one or two of them, can't you?"

"Roger that, sir. Also flying this high usually exposes us to those six-wing orbital fighters of theirs, those ARC-170s intel told us about. But they seem to have cleared out of Dodge as well."

The co-pilot spoke into his radio. "Sir, we're picking up spotty commo from across the Union. Sounds like everyone is reporting the same thing. The Imps started heading east an hour ago. Command is reporting that the ETs are consolidating over the Sahara for an unknown purpose. Several of their ships have disappeared altogether and spotters in Bermuda and northern Mexico have claimed they witnessed Star Destroyers firing on each other."

Harris closed his tired eyes and tried to think. What is the enemy up to now? "Get me back to a CENTCOM CP immediately. Contact NORAD. Password of the day is Galileo. Have them retask the Joint Surveillance System. I want eyes on that fleet immediately."

"Yes, sir." Both of the flight crew said in unison. The _Osprey_ dove back into the mountains and under the Imperial radar coverage.

"Gentlemen," Harris stood between them and rested his hands on their shoulders, "It may be time for the Earth to strike back."

**Thank you everyone who made it this far. To all the favoriters, the alerters and the reviewers thanks for making the review page one of the most enjoyable sites to visit every week. I can't believe it's one of the top reviewed stories on the fanfiction-star wars page. I hope to hear from all of you later this year, when Tarkin's Fist 3 begins. Please keep an eye out for it later rather than sooner this fall. After it's out I plan on releasing a chapter a month until I'm done with school and then its full steam ahead until the whole thing is finished.**


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